


Love Thy Neighbor...He's Hot

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Infidelity (not Sterek), Kate Argent is her own warning, Oral Sex, Pining, Smut, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:38:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 117,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he's so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, I accidentally long ficced...So this is about a year and a half of my life, all written during downtime at work. I have never written a long fic before and this was SUPPOSED to just be a couple thousand words for a Sterek as neighbors AU and well...things happened I guess.

Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with their New York apartment. The property manager was an old friend of Laura’s and was about to quit, so he rented the unit to them for dirt cheap (at least cheap by New York standards). Bless rent control.

They lucked out with their neighbor, too. Stiles was in his early 20s, loud, and worked mostly from home. The walls were thin and with wolf hearing, Derek and Laura could hear absolutely everything. He was always quiet at night though. Starting at 9:00 or 10:00 pm, the music and TV turn off or way down, until the only sounds were Stiles’ fingers flying over his laptop keys and the steady beat of his heart. 

Stiles was also an amazing cook and always made way too much, so they ended up with Stiles at their door, hands full of deliciousness, at least twice a week. The homemade meals went a long way to endearing the Hales to Stiles. They hated to admit it, but Stiles was a comforting constant in the shit storm their lives have become since the fire.

This week, Stiles was on his Asian food kick and Laura yanked open the door as soon as Stiles knocked. Stiles smiled wide, thrusting the covered bowl into Laura’s waiting hands.

“Shrimp friend rice,” Stiles said. “A little spicy, so have a drink ready.”

“How did you know the way to my heart is through my stomach? Oh Stiles, my culinary hero,” Laura said dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Stiles snorted. “The way to your heart is through ice cream and Iron Man.”

“What can I say, I have a Robert Downey Jr. thing,” Laura said, shrugging. 

“Don’t we all. Speaking of unfairly attractive people, where’s that broody brother of yours?” Stiles asked.

“Work. Why, I’m not good enough company?” Laura teased.

“Nope,” Stiles said blithely. “But nah, Cassie has roommate issues so she’s staying with me for a week or two. So don’t call the cops if you see someone coming or going.”

“I don’t know, getting your girlfriend arrested would be a great welcome-to-the-building hazing,” Laura said, tapping her chin.

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked back toward his apartment, yelling, “Why do I put up with you?” over his shoulder.

“You love me!” Laura shouted back.

“Like a familiar boil!”

Laura chuckled and closed the door. 

The pull of Stiles’ fried rice was too strong to resist. When Derek got home twenty minutes later, Laura had eaten 80% of the bowl. Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“The man has a gift, sorry,” Laura said completely unapologetically. 

“Mmhmm,” Derek said, grabbing the bowl and falling onto the couch next to her.

“His girlfriend is going to be staying with him for a bit,” Laura said, eyes never leaving the TV screen. Derek frowned.

“I don’t like her,” he said.

“I know,” Laura said.

“She smells weird.”

“I know.”

“She complains a lot-”

“I know.”

“-and Stiles is too nice to tell her off.”

Laura sighed, finally turning to look at him.

“I know, baby brother, but Stiles cares about her and it’s not our place to tell him what he should do,” she said. “He’s our neighbor, not pack.”

“He could be,” Derek muttered.

“No, he couldn’t,” Laura said firmly. “We don’t need anyone else. Just you and me.”

-

Cassie showed up the next day, lugging a big suitcase down the hall right when Derek was leaving for work. She looked up expectantly, but Derek only gave her a little wave and continued down the hall. He had to get to work, after all. Drinks don’t pour themselves. He heard a muttered “asshole” to his back. He smirked, he day getting a little vindictively better.

That mood evaporated that night when he knocked on Stiles’ door to return the fried rice bowl. As soon as Stiles swung the door open, Derek was punched in the nose with the stink of Cassie’s strong perfume. He tried not to grimace but Stiles must have caught it because the first thing he said was, “There are those grumpy eyebrows, I was wondering when I’d see that sparkling face.”

Derek rolled his eyes and forced his expression into something more neutral.

“You see me all the time.”

“In passing!” Stiles said. “That’s doesn’t even count! We haven’t had a Stilinski-Hale movie night since last month.”

Despite the smell of Cassie, Derek found his lips quirking up. “Well we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Just don’t remind Laura that it’s her turn to pick the movie.”

Stiles laughed and it warmed Derek in a way he didn’t feel like exploring.

“You guys can finally get to know Cassie,” Stiles said. And that nice feeling dropped right out of him.

Derek nodded, carefully keeping his face calm. “This weekend?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Mind if we do it at your place? Laura’s art has taken over the apartment again.” Derek lied. The idea of Cassie in his home, her scent clinging to his furniture, made his wolf restless.

“Sure,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Can’t disturb the creative process, can we?”

“Not if we want our limbs to stay in our sockets,” Derek agreed. “See you Saturday.”

-

Derek was torn. On the one hand, he was excited to see Stiles. It’d been a long time since he, Stiles, and Laura had had the same weekend off. On the other, he and Laura had never been in the same room as Cassie for more than thirty seconds and Derek wasn’t especially excited at the prospect of spending hours with her. 

Laura had absolutely no sympathy.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” she said, digging through the cupboard for popcorn. Derek threw his empty water bottle at her head. “Seriously, if you’re sullen all night, you’re going to have a crappy time.”

“Fine,” Derek grumbled.

“Keep that insane jealously down, bro.”

“I’m not jealous,” he snapped.

Laura snorted.

“Right, this has nothing to do with your massive crush on Stiles.”

“You – I don’t have a – shut up!”

“Well put, totally proved me wrong there. That’s what you get when your brain’s full of Stiles,” Laura said in that sing-song voice that drove Derek crazy.

This time he threw a full water bottle at her.

-

Laura seemed perfectly at ease, sprawled in a big, overstuffed chair in Stiles’ living room. Derek glared daggers at her from his spot on the couch, right next to where Cassie was draped over Stiles. Laura just smiled cheekily and turned her attention back to the screen.

“This is a boring movie,” Cassie said, nose scrunched.

“It only started,” Stiles said, frowning down at her.

“Why can’t we watch something else?” she asked.

“It’s Laura’s turn to pick,” Derek said through gritted teeth. Laura sent him a look as Cassie hmphed.

“Come on, giant, radioactive ants, how cool is that?” Stiles said loudly. 

Cassie turned her attention to her boyfriend, face morphing into a smile. “You’re adorable,” she said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Stiles’ lips. 

Derek stood up fast, mumbled something about the bathroom, and all but fled the room. He gripped the edge of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror, shocked to see his fangs were out. His wolf was snarling in his head, hackles raised, and ready to rip the interloper off Stiles. He…crap. Laura was right, he was jealous. Which meant he had feelings for Stiles. Derek contemplated trying to flush himself down the toilet.

His phone buzzed with a text from Laura that said **You got it under control?**

“Yes,” he murmured, knowing she would hear from the living room. “Just surprised.”

Derek jerked as someone knocked on the door, uncomfortable with the fact that he was so out of it that he didn’t hear Stiles approaching. And it was Stiles, of course it was, he’d know that heartbeat anywhere.

“Derek? You okay?” Stiles called through the door.

Derek grunted, took a last look at his now fang-less face in the mirror, and pulled the door open. “Just not feeling great,” he said. It wasn’t a lie.

Stiles frowned. “Was it the chicken? I was iffy on trying the new sauce but it seemed okay. Do you need anything? Water, Pepto, Tums?”

Derek dropped a hand to Stiles’ shoulder, cutting off the other man’s rambling. 

“I’m fine, Stiles. I wasn’t feeling great before I got here,” Derek assured him. 

Stiles’ eyebrows were still drawn and Derek had the sudden urge run his thumb over his forehead, easing the crease. Instead, he pulled his hand back and stuffed it into his pocket.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Derek said. “Try to sleep it off.” Stiles’ face dropped with disappointment for a moment before pulling back. 

“Okay, feel better, man,” Stiles said.

Derek nodded and brushed past Stiles, making his way to the front door. He shook his head when Laura made to stand, and motioned for her to stay. One of them might as well enjoy themselves. 

As soon as he got into his room, Derek flopped face down onto his mattress. This was ridiculous. Derek hasn’t felt anything like this in years, not since he left Beacon Hills. Not since Kate. He growled at that, not wanting Stiles and Kate associated in any way, not even in his own head. Taking a deep breath into his pillow, he hoped it’d suffocate him in his sleep.

-

No such luck, though. Derek woke up the next morning perfectly alive, if a little disoriented. It took him a minute to figure out what woke him up until he heard a soft knocking on the front door. Dragging himself out of bed, he made sure his pajama pants weren’t falling off and made his way to the front door. He pulled it open, not caring that he probably looked like he was just dropped out of a wind tunnel, to Stiles whose eyes raked down Derek’s bare torso.

“Oh my god, sleepy-you is fucking adorable!” Stiles blurted out then blushed bright red.

“Huh?” Derek blinked, brain mostly still offline from sleep.

“Uh, here,” Stiles said, thrusting a covered Tupperware container into Derek’s hand. Derek just raised an eyebrow. “Uh, it’s soup. Chicken noodle soup, because you were feeling sick last night and I thought maybe you still are so, uh, I made Stilinski’s classic chicken noodle soup. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid and got sick and it always made me feel better, so I thought it might make you feel better and, yeah,” Stiles finished, rushing the words out.

“You made me soup,” Derek repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, so I’m gonna go, have to actually head into the office for a meeting with some fancy pants investors.”

The only thing Derek could think to say was, “And you’re wearing that?”

Stiles squawked indignantly, looking down at his jeans and button down plaid shirt.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It’s my nicest plaid! I usually work from home, they know coders don’t do ties!”

“If they didn’t, they sure will now,” Derek said.

“Gee, thanks. Yeah, so feel better,” Stiles said and turned on his heel, headed to the stairs.

“Stiles,” Derek called out.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, turning back.

“Thanks for the soup,” Derek said, holding up the Tupperware. A soft smile covered Stiles’ face that Derek felt himself mirroring. 

“You’re welcome.” Stiles turned and made his way out. Derek watched his back until he disappeared into the stairwell.

Derek closed the door and leaned heavily against it, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Stiles had made him soup. Stiles had been thinking about him. Stiles wanted him to get better. Derek’s wolf rumbled with approval at Stiles’ actions, the care he gives Derek, the nurturing nature that is such a great quality in a mate…

Derek groaned and let his head thunk back against the door.

-

Despite Derek’s wariness of Cassie, life went on in pretty much the exact same way it had before she started staying with Stiles. Derek and Cassie apparently had opposite schedules, so he barely even ran into her in the halls. There was on memorable day when he passed Stiles and Cassie at a bus stop, kissing like they were trying to crawl down each other’s throats. Derek was perfectly happy to duck around the couple, turn tail and run, but Laura called out to Stiles. Damn traitor.

“Stiles!” Laura called, fighting her way through the crowded sidewalk to get to the bus stop. Stiles pulled away from Cassie, smiling and waving at the Hales. Derek followed Laura and couldn’t help the small smile that escaped when Stiles casually touched his arm. Cassie didn’t notice but she did frown a bit when Laura pulled Stiles in for a hug.

“What’re you guys up to?” Stiles asked, throwing an arm around Cassie’s shoulders.

“Just heading home,” Laura said. She held up a paper bag in her left hand. “We got a little carried away at the bookstore.”

“Without me? Rude,” Stiles teased. “Cassie and I are heading to lunch, wanna come? Thaaaaai food.”

Derek shifted a bit.

“Uh, I think we need to head-“

“Hell yeah, we’ll come!” Laura interrupted. “You know I can never said no to pad thai.”

Stiles absolutely beamed at them and Derek, powerless in the presence of that smile, couldn’t bear to protest.

That’s how Derek ended up on a bus, squished between Laura and Stiles. Stiles’ body was pressed against Derek’s from shoulder to knee and Derek was having serious issues ignoring the line of heat pressing against him. Stiles was chatting animatedly next to him, hands brushing against Derek every once in a while and Derek desperately tried to think unsexy thought. Dentists, puppies, moldy bread.

Apparently it wasn’t working because Laura smacked him in the thigh and muttered, “Gross,” just low enough for only Derek to hear. That helped, if only because all the blood was currently rushing to his face instead of…elsewhere. Derek kept up the litany of unpleasant thoughts until they were actually seated at the restaurant, Derek and Laura across from Stiles and Cassie.

Laura and Stiles kept the conversation going for the most part, though Cassie and Derek occasionally got a word in when Stiles and Laura’s mouths were too stuffed to form words. It was during one of those brief periods that Cassie launched into a lengthy explanation of her dissertation.

Turned out, she was in a master’s program at the same school as Stiles, with a focus on something related to biological engineering. Begrudgingly, Derek had to admit that Cassie was actually pretty smart and managed to make the topic of cellular structure sound interesting. Stiles obviously thought so, too, going by the enraptured look on his face.

A sinking sensation settled in the pit of Derek’s gut. Stiles was getting his master’s in computer science, his girlfriend was getting her master’s in molecular biology, and Derek…Derek was a mechanic and worked weekends at a bar. He wasn’t on Stiles’ level, he wasn’t even close. An irrational wave of jealousy smacked him in the face while he watched the couple interact excitedly. Cassie had the shared experiences, a similar intelligence level, the same enthusiasm as Stiles. She could keep up with him in a way that Derek, with only half a history degree, couldn’t. 

His claws itched to come out, to rip Stiles away from the threat to his wolf. That was when Laura stomped on his foot hard enough that he could hear the bones in his foot crack under her boot.

“Ow!” he shouted, kicking at her calf. The entire table was looking at him in a way that plainly said he’d missed a question aimed at him. “Er, what?” 

Stiles shook his head with a slight smirk and said, “I said NYU has a pretty good history program if you ever wanted to finish your degree.”

Cassie jumped in before Derek could answer, with, “You didn’t finish your degree? In _history?_ ” The sneer in her voice made it clear exactly what she thought of that. Laura’s hackles rose next to him, a sub vocal growl rumbling in her chest.

Stiles hissed, “Cassie!”

“No,” Derek snapped. “I was taking classes at the community college when I was still in high school, but I took time off after a death in the family.”

“And never went back,” Cassie said primly. “Who died?”

“Cassie, shut up,” Stiles said, frantically looking between his girlfriend and the Hales. 

“Everyone,” Derek said coldly, giving her a look that clearly said he wished she would evaporate on the spot. “Everyone died.”

Laura gripped his hand, coaching open the fist he hadn’t realized he’d made. Cassie’s mouth was hanging slightly open. Derek could smell the regret wafting off of her but he was so far beyond caring.

“Oh,” Cassie said, voice small. “I didn’t-“

“We need to go,” Laura said, throwing two $20 bills on the table. 

She grabbed Derek by the hand and dragged him out of the restaurant. They made it to the end of the block before Laura pulled him in to a fierce hug. He hadn’t even realized he was shaking until it stopped. The smell of pack and safety enveloped him and he leaned down into Laura’s neck, chasing the scent. Laura made a deep rumbling sound in her chest, the one he knew as one of her alpha sounds, and he relaxed minutely.

His alpha was holding him tightly, whispering reassuring words in his ear when the familiar heartbeat of Stiles approached. Derek pulled away, facing the other man as he got closer.

“Hey!” he called, slightly out of breath from jogging down the sidewalk to them. “Derek, Laura, I am so sorry. I don’t know why she did that, but it’s not okay. Seriously, I’m so sorry.”

Stiles’ eyes were so soft and sad. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before laying a hand on Derek’s arm. Derek was hit again with that feeling of homepacksafety. He vaguely wondered when he started thinking of Stiles as pack as he gripped Stiles’ arm back, relaxing at the touch.

“It’s not your fault,” Derek heard himself say.

“Still,” Stiles said with a frown.

Derek nodded, absently running the skin of Stiles’ arm with his thumb. Stiles’ heartbeat ratcheted up but Derek attributed it to anxiety over whether or not he was going to rip off Stiles’ head.

“We’re just going to head home, okay?” Laura said, lightly pulling Derek from Stiles. “We aren’t mad at you, sweetie, I promise.” Laura flashed Stiles a small smile and turned to hail a cab. Stiles waited until they drove away before starting to walk back to the restaurant.

-

That night, Laura and Derek overheard the third fight between Stiles and Cassie in the whole nine months of their relationship. The first had been something small, some miscommunication. The second had been about Cassie getting a little too close and personal with a guy in one of her classes. This one was about the Hales, or more specifically, her attitude toward them. It all snowballed from there.

“Jesus, I’m sorry I offended your neighbors, okay? It was a mistake!” Cassie’s voice cut through the wall Derek and Laura shared with Stiles like it wasn’t even there.

“Okay, A. They’re not just my neighbors, they’re my friends!” Stiles’ voice echoed.

“Be still my heart,” Laura simpered from the kitchen. Derek snorted and tried to keep watching the baseball game.

“And B. This isn’t just about them, that was seriously fucked up, though. This is about how you treat people! You act like no one else is as important as you so you treat them like shit.”

“I do not!”

“Not always, but you do,” Stiles said. His voice was a little hoarse from yelling but he wasn’t even close to done. “You aren’t the sun and the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“You’re supposed to take my side!” Cassie yelled. “No matter what, I’m always supposed to have you in my corner!”

“You do!” Stiles said. “I’m on your side and it’s in YOUR best interest to not go through life acting like a bitch.”

“YOU DID NOT JUST CALL ME A BITCH!”

“I said you’re acting like one.”

“Semantics!”

“You have the potential to be the awesome, Cassie, and you usually are, but you get this seriously bitchy streak that is a ridiculous turn off,” Stiles said, anger now tinged with tiredness. “Really, why do you do it? Is it a power trip thing? Do you idolize the rich and asshole-y who think they’re better than everyone else? What about me, Cass? Am I just a stepping stone boyfriend until you find someone who’s better than me?”

“What?” Cassie actually sounded shocked at that. “Stiles, no, I-“

“Because you act like everyone is nothing but scum on the bottom of your shoe. Is that what I am? Just an amusement until you find someone better? How do I know I mean anything to you when it seems like you don’t care about anything?”

“Stiles…” Cassie said, soft voice trailing off.

“Really? Nothing to say?” Stiles sounded so, so tired.

Laura and Derek exchanged a look, the Mets game on TV all but forgotten. The sound of Stiles’ sigh was the only noise from the neighboring apartment.

“Feel free to sleep on the couch tonight,” Stiles said, followed by footsteps and the slam of what Derek assumed was the bedroom door. Cassie clunked around the apartment, grumbling too low for the wolves to hear.

“What a bitch,” Laura said finally, turning up the TV volume to help drown out the noise from Stiles’ apartment.

“No shit,” Derek said deadpan. “It’s almost like I’ve told you that from the start.” Laura shoved him playfully with shoulder. 

“Shut up and watch the game. And stop brooding.”

Derek elbowed her, but did what she said. He tried to remember his family as they had been; happy, gathered together, relaxing with the comfort of pack. Just like he and Laura were trying to do. The twisting in his gut he used to feel when he thought about his family was lessening slowly over time as he learned to focus on the better things, like his little brother’s Transformers-themed bedroom and the look on his little sister’s face when she lost her first tooth. Remembering his family didn’t make him immediately spiral into a pit of depression and self-loathing anymore. His therapist called it progress.

-

Derek woke up earlier than usual the next morning, courtesy of the sunlight flooding the room from between the curtains he’d forgotten to close the night before. Groaning, he rolled out of bed, knowing he’d never be able to get back to sleep, and stumbled to the kitchen. He stared at the coffeemaker for a good thirty seconds before remembering he needed to turn it on.

He jumped when he heard Stiles’ front door slam closed. By the click of the heels on the hallway’s floor, he knew it was Cassie leaving, probably for work. A few minutes later, he heard Stiles moving around the apartment, getting ready for his Sunday morning run. Derek made a split second decision and bolted to his room, yanking on his workout clothes as fast as he could. The lightweight shirt and basketball shorts weren’t the best for going on a run, but they’d do. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, he all but flung himself out the front door. Derek shoved his key into the lock, hoping it looked like he was just leaving his apartment, when Stiles opened his front door.

Stiles startled when he saw Derek, accidentally slamming his elbow on the door frame. “Ow! Shit, fuck Derek!”

“Stiles,” Derek answered, sending a smirk to the younger man. Stiles smiled back but it wasn’t as bright as normal. Derek’s wolf shifted restlessly at that. “Going for your Sunday run?” Stiles cocked his head to the side at that. 

“You know I run Sundays?” he asked, not sounding angry, merely curious. Derek just quirked the corner of his lips up. “Okay, okay Mr. Mysterious McCreeper,” Stiles said with a snort. “Gonna come?”

Derek, with great effort, refrained from making any innuendoes. “That okay?” he asked. This time when Stiles smiled, it was the usual grin that warmed Derek. 

“Very,” Stiles said. “Come on.” He briefly gripped Derek’s arm when he walked by, leading them out.

Despite the fact that Derek was a wolf, running with Stiles actually gave him a bit of a workout. He made a mental note to add more cardio to his usual regimen. They ended up taking a break in a small woodsy park a few miles from their building. Derek was flopped on his back, basking in the warm sun. Stiles let out a soft chuckle from next to him. 

“You tired?” Stiles asked.

Derek grumbled back. Stiles swatted him on the arm.

“What are all these muscles for if you’re just gonna tap out? Where’s the stamina, man?”

“I’ll show you stamina,” Derek muttered, standing up. He didn’t think he’d said it loud enough to for Stiles to hear, but judging by the way his heartbeat sped up and the blush on his cheeks, he was wrong.

“Well then,” Stiles stuttered. “I’ll just have to believe you on that because our walls aren’t _that_ thin. Not that I was trying to hear anything like that from you or, ew, Laura – oh shit don’t tell you I said ‘ew’ or she’ll kill me.”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, clasping a hand on the back of the other man’s neck. Stiles stilled immediately, but he didn’t stop reeking of embarrassment and adrenaline and arousal. It was then that Derek realized how intimate of a position he’d put the two of them, how very pack-like the gesture was. 

He slowly removed his hand from Stiles’ neck. His wolf immediately whined at the loss of skin to skin contact, at the loss of feeling Stiles’ pulse beneath his fingertips. Derek was inclined to agree with his wolf.

Stiles was still flushed but managed to shake himself and take a deep breath that Derek would never know was shaky if it weren’t for his wolf hearing.

“Yeah,” Stiles said absently, answering a question no one asked. “Uh, should we head back?” he asked and started to jog the path back, not waiting to see if Derek would follow. Of course, he did, setting off at a leisurely pace behind Stiles. He didn’t try too hard to catch the other man; the view of Stiles’ muscles playing beneath his thin shirt, the wide shoulders that narrowed at his waist (a swimmer’s body, Derek’s mind supplied)…yeah he didn’t mind the view at all. 

Intellectually, Derek had known that Stiles was fit. He’d seen the strength in his forearms, and knew he worked out, but knowing and seeing are two very different things. Now, he was able to watch Stiles’ lithe body move in front of him, showing the strength usually hidden beneath his clothes. Derek never thought he’d be the kind of guy that stared at someone’s calves, but here he was, enjoying the way Stiles’ calf muscles bunched and relaxed. His eyes traced the path up the back of Stiles’ legs, hesitating on his thighs before coming to rest on his ass. Now, Stiles’ ass was something Derek was used to staring at. 

Derek’s wolf was loving this, the illusion of chasing Stiles through a river of the other man’s pheromones. He was ready to take Stiles, to claim him and mark him up…Derek willed his thoughts away, wanting nothing less than to get hard while running in a public park. 

With a small burst of speed, Derek caught up to Stiles, valiantly keeping his eyes staring straight ahead and trying to ignore Stiles’ sweet smell. Derek breathed through his mouth the rest of the way back to their building. He was so fucked.

-

By the time Stiles and Derek were climbing the stairs to their floor, Derek wanted nothing more than a cold shower and a nap. Apparently, Laura had other plans. Stiles and Derek stared at the door of the Hales’ apartment. Or more accurately, the tie hanging from the doorknob. Derek hadn’t even thought that either of them owned a tie.

“What.” Derek glared at the door like it had personally offended him. The music blaring and the smell of incense seeping from under the door were effectively blocking his werewolf senses from hearing or smelling anything.

“I think that’s pretty self-explanatory,” Stiles said with a laugh. “What, neither of you have ever brought anyone home before?”

“No,” Derek said.

“What? How?!” Stiles almost yelled.

“How what?”

“You’ve never brought anyone home? Have you SEEN you? You like, won the genetic lottery!” Stiles said, then started stumbling over his words. “Er, both of you. You and Laura, uh, genetic lottery winners!”

Derek snorted, shaking his head. “Sure, Stiles.”

“Anyway, extracting foot from mouth,” Stiles muttered. “Wanna come in and shower?” Stiles unlocked his door and waved his hand with a flourish.

“Yeah,” Derek said, walking past Stiles, trying desperately not to imagine them showering together.

“Towels are under the sink, I’ll try to find clothes that’ll fit your whole…” Stiles flailed a hand in Derek’s general direction, “muscle-ness.” Derek quirked and eyebrow and lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. “Shut up,” Stiles grumbled and Derek let himself be bodily pushed into the bathroom.

Derek stripped methodically, turning the shower onto the coldest setting, and stepped in. The shock of the cold water pushed all thoughts from his head, letting him wash himself in peace. All too soon though, his body adjusted to the temperature and Derek was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he was naked in Stiles’ shower, covering himself with Stiles’ body wash, becoming saturated in the scent of Stiles.

Derek’s cock started to fill, thickening between his thighs where he was rubbing Stiles’ soap into his skin. He grasped his length, stroking himself to full hardness before he could even think about if it was a good idea or not. The smell of Stiles mixing with Derek’s own stench of arousal become too much for his self-control and he stroked himself faster, brushing his thumb over the flushed head of his cock. Gathering more soap, he lathered himself up more until his dick reeked of Stiles’ body wash.

Almost of its own volition, Derek’s hand moved faster, drips of pre-come escaping every time he put pressure on that one spot right underneath the tip. He was gasping, working himself closer and closer, his orgasm quickly building. Close, he was so close to coming, making his mark on Stiles’ home, coating the room with his scent in a way that Cassie would never be able to erase.

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, one hand stripping his cock desperately, the other gently massaging his balls before dipping back, running over his perineum.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice came through the door and that was it, Derek was spilling over his hand at hearing his name on Stiles’ lips. White hot pleasure burned through him, shaking him as he emptied himself until he smelled nothing but come and himself and Stiles.

“Derek?” Stiles called again. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Derek rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, just slipped a little.”

“Okay…” Stiles said before the sound of his footsteps retreated from the other side of the bathroom door.

Derek took a few minutes to pull himself together before he gave himself a perfunctory wash, careful of his sensitive cock, and turned off the shower. He toweled off quickly, hoping to get out of the bathroom before the smell made of Stiles and come and Derek made his dick hard again.

The towel was hung low around his hips when he stepped into the living room, his skin still beaded from water from how hastily he’d dried off. Stiles’ eyes zeroed in on his chest immediately from where he was sitting on the couch.

“That’s, wow,” Stiles said, unable to stop staring.

Derek frowned and stared down at himself in worry, but there was no evidence of what he’d just done. 

“Wow what?”

“Nothing! Nothing, just you, there, with all the – you know what, never mind,” Stiles said, unsubtly dragging his eyes over Derek’s chest and torso before yanking his eyes away. He grabbed a stack of clothes from the end of the couch and tossed them at Derek, who caught them easily.

“I’m gonna shower,” Stiles said, tossing the remote to Derek. “I have sandwich stuff in the fridge, get that protein! Not that your muscles need it.” He muttered the last part under his breath.

“What was that?” Derek asked, feigning innocence and toying with the hem of the towel around his waist. 

“Nothing!” Stiles said and all but fled to the bathroom, a faint scent of arousal trailing after him.

Derek smirked and waited until the bathroom door locked before pulling off the towel and patting himself dry. The clothes that were left out for Derek were going to fit on the small side, but he figured they’d work. 

The sweatpants actually fit Derek well, which meant Stiles probably swam in them, but the t-shirt was a bit tight across his chest. _Eh,_ he thought. He’d worn worse; there was that time in high school when he’d spilled chocolate sauce all over his shirt and had had to wear an extra shirt of Laura’s that had just happened to be a deep v-neck with a flowery trim. Yeah, Stiles’ slightly tight Mets t-shirt would work just fine.

The fridge wasn’t overly full, but Stiles didn’t get paid until next week (Derek had a completely legitimate reason for knowing that, okay?) so he wasn’t surprised. He pulled out a few handfuls of sandwich ingredients. His inner-wolf preened at the idea of preparing food for Stiles, of showing how he could nurture and care for him. Derek wished he could kick his wolf in the nose.

Derek was spreading mayo on the bread when he heard the first whimper. He froze, immediately on alert for danger. Ears straining, he took a few cautious steps towards the bathroom. Wild scenarios flew through his head; someone could have broken in (rationally, Derek knew he’d have heard that), Stiles could be having a stroke (unlikely, he was 24), or maybe Stiles fell. Or maybe it was nothing and Derek was about to burst in on his naked neighbor for no reason.

Derek took a deep breath, searching for any trace pain and – nope, that wasn’t pain he was smelling; that was the salty tang of Stiles’ pre-come. Derek jerked back from the door, rushing back to the kitchen. He studiously tried to give Stiles some privacy, though it was hard to drown out the bitten off breathy moans. Derek continued to violently make sandwiches until he realized the bread had disintegrated under his knife from the half inch of mayo he’d been spreading for the last two minutes.

The noises finally stopped with a bitten-off gasp and Derek sighed in relief. His self-control had already been tested enough today. 

When Stiles walked out of the bathroom in only a towel, the smell of his come and a bit of Derek’s trailed after him. Derek had no idea what he’d done in his past life to deserve this kind of torture, and as he watched Stiles’ slim but muscled back retreated to his room, he hoped it had been worth it.

Stiles didn’t take long to get dressed, popping back into the main living area of the apartment less than five minutes later, hair mussed and wet. Derek focused on the TV and munched on his lunch.

“Food,” he grunted, gesturing to the plate he’d put out for Stiles on the coffee table.

“Caveman Derek, make Stiles food,” Stiles grunted and flopped next to Derek on the couch with barely three inches of space between their bodies. Derek rolled his eyes, an easy default for interaction with Stiles. 

It took a few minutes for Derek to realize that something was off and a few seconds more before he figured out that it was because Stiles was quiet. He looked over to see Stiles starting at the sandwich in his hands.

“Stiles?” Derek asked tentatively. “Is something wrong? I can remake it if you want.”

“No!” Stiles said. He turned to Derek with a look of soft surprise. “It’s just, you know how I like my sandwiches.”

“Yeah,” Derek said slowly, frowning in confusion. “I do. And?”

“It’s just, Cassie doesn’t even remember that,” he said quietly. Derek shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s just a sandwich,” he said, though he was pleased he had something up on Cassie.

“No, I know,” Stiles said quickly. “Still though, it’s…I…I like it this way because that’s how my mom used to make them.”

Derek stilled. He’d heard Stiles voluntarily talk about his mom maybe six times. He didn’t know the sandwich was a big deal; he’d seen Stiles meticulously stack his sourdough bread with mayo, provolone cheese, then turkey, lettuce, and cucumbers, roast beef, and Swiss, then the last piece of bread with a thin layer of honey mustard, at least once a week for the last few months, never having any idea something so simple had such a complicated reason.

“Uh,” Derek said, feeling the sudden urge to share something with Stiles to repay his openness. “My mom used to make peanut butter Oreo cookies. They were really weird and delicious and I’ve been too much of a chicken to try to make them,” Derek said. There was a weight gone from his chest that he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying. 

Stiles smiled, recognizing the offering for what it was. He reached over and squeezed Derek’s thigh before turning up the TV and focusing on the movie, completely unaware of the state in which he’d left Derek.

There was warm spot lingering on his thigh from where Stiles had touched him, and a lightness to him that he hadn’t felt before after talking about his family. It didn’t hurt to talk about them with Stiles, just a dull ache and fond memories. He settled back in the couch in shock, not paying attention to whatever was on. His therapist had told him this day would come. He hadn’t believed her.

Stiles and Derek made it through a movie and a half before Derek’s phone buzzed. It was a text that only said **You’re welcome, little bro**. Derek rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Thor. He’d forgotten that the whole reason he’d spent the majority of his day with Stiles was that he’d been sexiled. Now that he focused, he couldn’t smell any incense from next door, nor hear the music that had been blasting earlier. He could go home now, partake in his Sunday ritual of reading and sit-ups.

“Hey, salted caramel ice cream?” Stiles offered.

Or he could stay here.

“What was the point of running this morning?” Derek teased. Stiles scoffed.

“I run so I can eat ice cream and pizza and maintain this sexy body,” Stiles said, hopping over the back of the couch and heading to the kitchen. “I noticed you didn’t say no.”

“No, I didn’t,” Derek agreed. He didn’t think he’d be able to say no to anything Stiles asked.

-

Hours later, Derek was sleepily reclining on Stiles’ couch, Stiles nearly unconscious next to him with his eyes closed. There were dishes in the sink, their feet rested on the coffee table, and soft, evening light was seeping through the cracks in the blinds. At some point, Stiles had shivered, so Derek had pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and thrown it over both of their legs and now they were both barely awake with Iron Man playing in the background. It was so domestic it made his heart ache. 

Derek wanted to reach out, to run his hand through that soft, fluffy mess of hair. He wanted to trace patterns on the fair skin and find out if it was as smooth as it looked. He felt sleep-drunk, the tiredness and pure contentment flowing through his blood lowered his inhibitions and he reached out, fingers so close to Stiles…And of course, that’s when Cassie came home.

The sound of metal on metal jerked Derek and Stiles out of their lethargy. Cassie’s keys jingled outside for a few more seconds until there were a few clicks and the door opened. Stiles’ body was no longer soft and lazy next to him, but tense as if he was waiting for a blow to fall. But maybe that was just Derek projecting.

Cassie paused just inside the doorway, blonde hair falling sleekly around her shoulders. She and Stiles stared at each other for a few moments before she said, “Hey,” and shut the door behind her.

“Hey,” Stiles answered, getting up from his seat hesitantly.

Derek got up, too, edging away from the couple. Gone was the comfortable atmosphere from minutes before, evaporated with the presence of Cassie.

“I’m going to head out,” Derek said, moving around where Stiles was rigidly standing. He couldn’t resist brushing his fingers across Stiles’ wrist when he passed by, a gesture that helped calm other werewolves. He wasn’t sure how Stiles would take it, and felt a surge of satisfaction when Stiles did relax a bit.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, turning his attention to Derek. “Wanna run again later this week?”

Despite the awkwardness in the room, Derek couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, Stiles.”

Derek left Stiles and Cassie to their own devices, only realizing he was still wearing Stiles’ clothes when he walked into his living room and Laura smirked at him over the top of her book. He flipped her the bird and sank into the chair across from his sister.

“You didn’t have anyone here, did you?” Derek asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Laura said, idly turning the page.

“I can’t smell any trace of anyone at all,” Derek pointed out.

Laura yawned dramatically, throwing her arms out to the side. “I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed.”

“It’s 8:30.”

“Can never have too much beauty sleep,” she countered and all but sashayed to her bedroom.

“You’re a menace, you smug brat,” Derek called lightly to her. Her laugh cut off when she closed her bedroom door.

Derek knew though, that he lucked out in having a big sister that used her meddling powers for good instead of evil. And if he slept in Stiles’ t-shirt and sweats that night, well that was his own business.

-

After that day, Derek and Stiles started running together at least twice a week. Sometimes they stopped for a late breakfast after, Stiles claiming, “Protein is important after a workout! Keeps those muscles all muscle-y.” Slowly, they started to share bits of their family with each other, something Derek hadn’t been able to do since the fire. He learned things about Stiles that Stiles swore he’d never talked about with anyone, not even Cassie.

Derek learned that Stiles’ mom’s name had been Claudia and that she and Stiles’ dad met in college. Stiles still had a blanket she’d crocheted when he was eight. He’d cried and spent two hours scrubbing it when Cassie had spilled wine on it. The stain was mostly gone. Claudia Stilinski had been an art and sociology double major at NYU. That’s why Stiles had ended up in New York in the first place. 

When Stiles mentioned he was from Beacon Hills, Derek almost tripped over his own feet. He had no idea - he’d grown up barely ten miles out of Beacon Hills. He wasn’t too surprised that he didn’t remember Stiles, he was a few years older and he and Laura had left when they were pretty young. How their hometowns had never come up in the ten months they’d been neighbors, Derek had no idea. When he thought about it, Derek vaguely remembered a deputy named Stilinski trying to comfort him after the fire. Stiles said he personally felt like an idiot for not making the connection sooner.

“My dad’s the Sheriff! I’ve been snooping through case files and sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong since I turned five! I’m slipping!”

Derek slowly started telling Stiles about his siblings. His younger sister Cora had collected stuffed frogs and loved to throw tea parties for them and her X-Men action figures. Derek had always insisted he was too old for tea parties. He’d give anything for one more.

Derek told Stiles about his older cousin Jeff taking it upon himself to redecorate the whole Hale house. He talked about how his cool but weird uncle Peter, the restaurant his parents always went to for their anniversaries, and about the time Cora pushed their little brother Timothy off the roof. He backpedaled at Stiles’ horrified expression, saying it was the roof of the playhouse and that Timothy hadn’t been hurt.

He’d forgotten Stiles was a non-pack human, someone that didn’t know about werewolves and hearing about people being shoved off of roofs wasn’t normal for him. That’s when he found himself considering telling Stiles about him and Laura, an idea that only grew a few weeks later when Derek told Stiles about the fire that killed his family. Stiles had known that his family had died, but that’s all. Derek said that someone with a vendetta against his family had trapped them inside and burned them alive. His voiced cracked when he told Stiles how he’d been used as a means to get to his family, how he had given _her_ (he still refused to say her name) all the information she’d needed to murder every Hale besides Laura and him.

Derek didn’t realize he was crying until Stiles was wrapped around him, pulling Derek against him. He felt something wet against the side of his head and realized Stiles was crying, too. He cupped the back of Derek’s neck, giving a small squeeze that help soothe Derek. Stiles probably didn’t know it was a very wolf-like gesture, but Derek didn’t care. He buried his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck and took deep breaths, letting Stiles’ soothing murmurs wash over him.

“It’s not your fault, Derek. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Let it out, you did nothing wrong. Breathe for me, Der.” Stiles carded his hands through Derek’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Neither man cared that they were sitting on the grass in the middle of a park and probably drawing stares. It was New York, people had seen stranger things.

“Laura and I were supposed to be home but we went to a lacrosse game. Why’d they let us go? Laura and I were supposed to be there,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ neck. Stiles just held him closer.

They jogged back silently, too emotionally exhausted for their usual lighthearted banter and snark. When they parted at their front doors, Stiles gripped Derek’s arm and gave him that look of solidarity they sometimes shared that said the other understood. Derek nodded back.

Derek walked into his apartment, steeling himself for Laura and sure enough, the second the door clicked shut, she was on him. She pulled him in close and wiped at his cheeks, trying to erase the long-dry tear tracks that she’d probably smelled through the door.

“Derek,” she said, pleading with her eyes to tell her what was wrong.

Derek cleared his throat, raw from earlier, and said, “I talked to Stiles about…about the fire.”

Laura’s eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline and Derek was very aware of what Stiles meant when he said they had their own Hale Eyebrows Communications System. He could understand her shock, though. It’d taken Derek a year to truly talk openly with Laura about the fire.

“Are you okay? No, stupid question. What can I do, Derek? Please, tell me,” Laura begged, clutching his hands to her chest. This wasn’t his alpha asking, this was his sister.

Derek squeezed her hands back and leaned down to rest his forehead on hers. “You’re already doing it,” he said, giving her a small smile that he hoped was reassuring. “You’re doing such a good job, you’re an amazing sister and perfect alpha and – oof!” Derek was cut off by Laura’s hug squeezing the air out of him. Had he really not told her that before? He made a mental note to work on that.

Derek hugged her back and let her scent him, though he noticed she didn’t totally cover the scent of Stiles. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Laura was even aware that that was what she was doing. Normally, she’d cover any scent that wasn’t pack. He didn’t know what it meant that she let Stiles’ scent linger, but he wasn’t ready to ask.

Derek and Laura spent the rest of the day cuddled on the couch in a perpetual pack hug. Stiles periodically texted Derek with little things he thought would make Derek laugh. First was a picture of a bunny with a fez on its head, followed by a video of Stiles’ own kitchen floor that was covered in broken eggs, then panned to Stiles’ unimpressed face, an empty egg carton in his hands. The later it became, the more ridiculous the texts became until Stiles sent him a photoshopped picture of Derek’s head popping out of Mary Poppins’ handbag.

 **To: Stiles (8:02 pm)  
What does that even mean?** Derek texted Stiles back. Stiles’ response was nearly instantaneous. 

**_From: Stiles (8:03 pm)_  
It’s a metaphor**

**To: Stiles (8:05 pm)  
A metaphor for what?**

**_From: Stiles (8:08 pm)_  
Uh, you come from a place made of magic and sugar?** Then a second later, **Oh god I didn’t think that through, I just meant you’re what Mary Poppins would bring to get kids to behave? And, okay, there was no meaning behind it, photoshop is just fun, okay?”** The last text was accompanied by a picture of Stiles’ face surrounded by flower petals.

Derek snorted then snapped a picture of Laura asleep on his shoulder, a string of drool connecting her mouth to his shirt. He wrote **sleeping beauty** under it and sent it to Stiles.

 _ **From: Stiles (8:30 pm)**_  
**OH MY GOD I’m making that her contact picture. It’s almost good as yours**

 **To: Stiles (8:53 pm)  
** **What’s mine?**  
  
**_From: Stiles (9:02 pm)_  
Don’t worry about it**

**To: Stiles (9:14 pm)  
You worry me.**

Stiles sent a picture of a chicken sitting on a dog’s head, then a second later:  
  
**_From: Stiles (10:45 pm)_  
Goodnight Derek. **

**To: Stiles (10:4 pm)  
Goodnight, Stiles.**

-

Derek was not ready for work the next day. He was never a morning person, but Mondays especially tended to punch him in the face. He spent fifteen minutes in the shower just letting the hot water run over him before actually starting to wash himself. As usual (well, usual as of lately), his morning wood was very present, but he was too tired to give his cock more than a few half-hearted tugs before giving up. A half hour later, he stumbled out of the shower, drying off and pulling on the boxer briefs and jeans he’d brought in with him.

When he walked out of the bathroom, he heard Laura in the living room, closing the front door. Her scent was confusing, a mix of confused excitement and a tinge of sadness. He walked into the living room to find her standing in front of the door with a dazed look on her face and a Tupperware container in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, immediately at her side.

“Nothing, it’s, Stiles brought these,” she said. She carefully, reverently, handed Derek the container. There was a note from Stiles on top.

_Derek and Laura,_  
I hope it’s okay that I did this, if not, let me know. I know they’ll never be the same as your mom’s and I’d never try to replace hers or anything, this was a bad idea, huh? You were right though, Derek. They’re strangely delicious. So…yeah.  
Stiles 

Derek folded up the note and stared at the container in his hands. Laura’s eyes were a little wide, looking at the Tupperware, too. He popped the lid off and they were hit with the familiar smell of peanut butter and Oreos. Derek’s hand shook a little as he grabbed a cookie and broke it in two, handing half to Laura just like when they were kids.

“To Mom,” Laura said quietly, toasting him with her cookie half. Derek saluted her with his cookie and exhaled hard, then raised the cookie and took a bite.

Stiles was right, it wasn’t quite the same as his mom’s, but he wouldn’t want it to be. Stiles used a little more peanut butter than his mother had and the chunks of Oreos were bigger. They were amazingly delicious. Judging by Laura’s face, she thought so, too. They had a unique Stiles-like flair. 

Derek grinned at Laura. She smiled back, pieces of Oreos stuck in her teeth. Derek laughed and kissed her cheek, then took the container to the kitchen. He put two cookies in two plastic bags, one for Laura’s lunch and one for his. Just like their mom had done in the mornings before school.

He sent stiles a simple text that said the only thing he could think of. 

**To: Stiles (7:26 am)  
Thank you.**

-

Laura made steak and red potatoes for dinner that night, the meal she always made when she wanted to discuss something. Derek ate slowly, waiting for Laura to say whatever she needed to say.

“The full moon is this Saturday,” she said fifteen minutes into dinner. Derek nodded.

“I know,” he said. Of course he knew, he could feel the pull just like she did.

“The Hardwick Pack invited us to a full moon run ritual weekend.”

Derek’s eyebrows flew up at that. The Hardwick Pack ran the part of New York where Derek and Laura lived. They’d had to seek permission to move into the area. A pack of two was hardly a threat, so they’d be allowed to live with the Hardwick Alpha’s blessing.

“They barely tolerate us. They don’t even acknowledge we exist,” Derek said. “Why’re they inviting us to a lunar gathering?”

“They invited a lot of area packs. It’s the first weekend full moon this year and they want to take advantage,” Laura said.

Derek narrowed his eyes. “And?” he prompted. Laura gave a sigh.

“How do you always know when I’m holding something back?” she asked.

“I’m your brother. What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

Laura groaned and ran a hand through her hair.

“I think they’re looking to…diversify their pack.”

“Diversify,” Derek said flatly. “You mean they need new blood for breeding.” Laura nodded.

“At least that’s what the rumor mill says. It makes sense, they aren’t exactly social with others, why invite so many packs into their territory?” she said.

“So they probably want us to mate or... _breed_ with their pack members,” Derek said, voice still flat.

“I think they will probably try to negotiate for you,” Laura said heavily. 

“For me.”

“Do you remember when Mom was negotiating with that pack from Portland?” Laura asked. “You were only seven or eight.”

“Vaguely,” Derek said with a frown.

“They basically wanted to take Peter to be the alpha’s daughter’s mate and they’d send us someone to mate with cousin Jason,” Laura said.

“We’re wolves, not baseball cards,” Derek said, annoyance coloring his voice. “Are we going?”

“It’d be rude to refuse,” Laura said. “Don’t worry, just enjoy the run. I promise not to trade you for a hottie.” Derek rolled his eyes.

“You’d miss me.”

“Eh,” Laura said with a smile. “We’ll go, run in the woods, and abuse their hospitality for free food. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re a menace.”

-

Derek texted Stiles later that night, telling him he couldn’t go running this weekend because he and Laura would be out of town.

**_From: Stiles (7:20 pm)_  
=( It’s our tradition!**

**To: Stiles (7:27 pm)  
I don’t think weekly jogs count as a tradition.**

**_From: Stiles (7:30 pm)_  
Fine, it’s our routine! We’re like an old married couple! ** Derek ignored the swooping feeling in his stomach when he read that. **An old married couple that NEEDS their routine. Have you seen old people when they don’t get their weekly brunch, Derek? It’s not pretty!**

**To: Stiles (7:35 pm)  
We can still go Wednesday before we leave.**

**_From: Stiles (7:47 pm)_  
Sacrilegious! I need twice weekly Derek time!**

**To: Stiles (8:01 pm)  
You’ll live.**

Derek couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Stile tended to have that effect on him. That little asshole.

-

Stiles graduated to full-on asshole during their Wednesday run. He pegged Derek with pebbles and twigs the whole time.

“Are you just carrying a pocket of rocks?” Derek asked through gritted teeth. Stiles had been pelting him at random intervals for that last half hour.

“Nope,” Stiles said. He was barely even panting from the run. Derek would have to make sure to push him harder next time.

“You’re making it hard to miss you,” Derek said, speeding up a little bit.

Stiles tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and Derek reached over and automatically steadied him with a hand to his elbow.

“You’ll miss me?” Stiles asked. It was hard to tell if Stiles’ face was red from the run or from another reason.

“Yeah,” Derek said simply, keeping his running pace steady. Stiles smiled and didn’t say anything. Three minutes later, a twig hit Derek in the side of the head.

-

It wasn’t hard to get the weekend off from work for the lunar run. He put so much extra work in that his boss practically pushed him out of the door.

“I’ve been telling you to take a vacation for two years! Go!” Derek’s boss insisted. He was a short, skinny man with a Vincent Price moustache and a bald head. If Derek didn’t know he was harmless, he’d look terrifying.

“It’s Thursday,” Derek pointed out. “I don’t leave until Friday, Frank.”

“Go anyway!” Frank insisted.

Derek rolled his eyes and walked over to his station, pulling out his tools. “Friday.”

He called the bar where he worked every few weekends and told them he would be out of town. The bar manager said a bachelor party was coming up so he had ladies with cleavage working anyway.

-

Derek was going back and forth on how he felt about the lunar run. Half of him was excited to go on a real run in the woods for the first time in years. The other half of him was apprehensive. He’d never been comfortable with inter-pack politics and he’d gotten even rustier over the years of it being just Laura and him. When he’d mentioned this to Laura, she’d just ruffled his hair and smiled.

“It’s okay, it can’t be worse than the first time you met Stiles.”

Derek punched her in the shoulder, scowling. When Stiles had moved in next door to the Hales, Derek had somehow ended up implying that Stiles smelled like a fish and had intimacy issues. He still had no idea how that happened, but Stiles had found it hilarious.

Derek and Laura were packed and on the road by noon on Friday. Laura had insisted they leave early so she could give the Camaro a chance to stretch its legs. 

“You know it’s stupid to have a car in New York, right?” Derek said, putting his foot up on the dashboard.

Laura shoved it back down and cheerily said, “Shut the fuck up.” She rubbed the dash soothingly. “It’s okay, baby, he didn’t mean it. Ignored the crabby werewolf with no sense of fun.”

Derek rolled his eyes but sat back into the seat, relaxing to the ambient sounds of the road noise and Laura loudly singing along to an oldies station. It was her own way of calming her nerves and Derek found he didn’t mind. The more relaxed his alpha was, the more he was as well.

The drive to the Hardwicks’ lunar celebration grounds took two hours longer than it should have due to Laura’s detours and joy riding, but Derek couldn’t find it in himself to care.

-

The Hardwick compound (according to the big, carved sign at the beginning of the long, wooded driveway) reminded Derek of a summer camp. The tree-lined driveway eventually opened up into a large clearing with a central lodge smack dab in the middle. Looking around, Derek could see cabins nestled in the surrounding trees. Werewolf summer camp. He snorted and mentally blamed Stiles for warping his sense of humor.

They parked and made their way to the lodge, leaving their bags in the Camaro’s trunk, just in case they had to…just in case. There was a table right inside the front door with a smiling woman standing behind it.

“Welcome. I’m Christina Hardwick,” she said, raising her chin. The alpha’s wife, Derek remembered. She was either a well-preserved 40-something, or a weathered 30-something years old. Her bleached-blonde hair that was primly pulled back in a knot behind her head contrasted strongly with the casual jeans and t-shirt. She flashed her eyes gold in greeting. Laura and Derek flashed theirs in return. Christina raised her eyebrows at Derek’s blue eyes, but said nothing.

“Laura Hale,” Laura said. “My brother, Derek.”

“Alpha Hale. Here’s your schedule and information packet,” Christina said, handing Laura a manila envelope. “You’re in cabin D. There aren’t any locks because what’s the point?”

She was right; locks wouldn’t keep a determined werewolf out and they’d be able to smell if anyone had snuck in anyway.

“You just missed lunch, but the lunar eve dinner starts at six. Feel free to explore until then,” Christina said and turned her attention back to the papers in front of her. Laura and Derek took that as the clear dismissal it was and left the lodge to grab their bags and find their cabin. 

Cabin D wasn’t very far into the woods, either because the Hardwicks wanted to keep an eye on them or they didn’t seem them worthy of a more private and beautiful place. Probably both. Derek didn’t care, it’s not like he was going to be spending much time indoors. He checked his phone one more time, still no service. The last text he’d received from Stiles had told him to have fun on his spa weekend. Laura and burst out laughing when he read it to her. Apparently, she’d told Stiles they were having sibling bonding time with mud baths, massages, and seaweed wraps.

Derek tossed his phone onto the bed and went outside. Taking a deep breath here was so different than in the city. There was no smog or poison. When he breathed, he didn’t feel his lungs struggling to heal the damage.

Laura came up next to him and rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and took off into the woods. Derek followed, weaving between the trees and over rocks and roots and fallen logs. His wolf burst through, fangs and claws descending, then into his full beta shift. Adrenaline flowed through his veins, full of excitement and joy and freedom. 

This is what he’d needed; he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be aware of all the nature around him. There were rabbits burrowed twenty yards away, an eagle perched in a tree to his left, and god this was perfect. He and Laura ran for miles, not realizing how long it’d been until they stopped, breathless, by a small lake. The Hardwick land wasn’t nearly as large or beautiful as the preserve in Beacon Hills, but it was still incredible.

“It’s like waking up,” Laura said quietly, staring at two ducks that were swimming in circles in the center of the lake. “It’s like waking up and not even knowing you’d been asleep.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, not knowing anything else to say.

They stood in silence, letting the forest wash over them. Derek felt a deep sense of calm down to the marrow of his bones. It was like his wolf had swallowed the soul of the forest around him and was filling him, all the empty spaces in him that he hadn’t even known were there. His nerve endings and even blood cells were singing to him, making him aware of everything around him, his body, and his very soul. There were jagged holes inside of him that were stitched closed by Stiles, his imprint seared into Derek’s very being. Stiles had healed parts of him without Derek even seeing it.

When Derek was a kid, his parents had told him how they’d met. They were childhood friends from neighboring packs, seeing each other every few months, then one day it was as if their wolves saw the other inside themselves. They said there’d been a blank spot inside his mother that was shaped like his father, and vice versa. It hadn’t made sense to Derek until that moment.

There was a brand that screamed of Stiles on Derek, a part of Stiles that Derek had taken into himself. It made him better, stronger. It also made him weaker, gave him a vulnerable spot a Stiles wide. This was what his parents had tried to explain to him. This was how it felt to find your mate.

Derek vaguely thought the he should be freaking the fuck out. Romantic entanglements with a human were dangerous; it was a human who’d used him to burn his family alive because of what they were. Stiles was a human that who didn’t know about werewolves and wasn’t affiliated with a pack. How would he react to learning the truth about him? He could run, he could react in fear, or violence. Derek and Laura would have to run again.

So yes, Derek should be panicking, but the calm of the woods around him and his alpha and Stiles was too great a pull. The half-formed mating bond, because that’s what he realized it was, was too strong. He was a cup and he was already overflowing with more positive emotions in this one moment than in the last two years combined. He had no room left for fear.

Laura looked over when he shakily exhaled and he could tell she knew. An alpha’s connection with their pack was strong and the good, powerful alphas could feel their pack members, feel what they needed. And Laura knew.

Laura flashed her eyes and nodded to him, pulling him in for a hug. Their scents were pretty well mixed, but she scented him anyway.

“Okay, little brother,” she said, turning from the lake’s tranquility. “Let’s go meet and greet. I promise not to give you away, no matter how pretty the dowry.”

Derek snorted. “I can’t promise the same.” Laura punched him in the shoulder and took off back toward the main lodging area and back to dozens of moon-happy werewolves.

-

So, Derek really, really hated parties. Always had. He’d much rather be reading back in the cabin or out in the woods, communing with nature. Derek shook his head. He really was starting to sound like Stiles. Laura had refused to let Derek stay and sulk (her words, not his), so here he was, standing in the middle of a group of New York wolves. 

Unfortunately, unlike humans on the streets of the city, they weren’t at all intimidated by his ‘face-melting glare’ (once again, Laura). Instead of being given a wide berth, his forearm was in Christina Hardwick’s grip, while her other hand was gesturing to the group of people in front of Derek. He vaguely felt like he was being auctioned off.

It seemed like he was being introduced to everyone in the Hardwick pack. Well, every female. Even some that Derek was certain were underage and that alone made him queasy and even more wary of the pack’s matriarch.  
“This is my daughter Alexandria, and our ward, Erica,” Christina said, motioning to the last girl in the row of wolves and an older girl to her right with wild blonde hair. Unlike her sisters and cousins who’d looked at Derek like he was an injured gazelle that they were ready to take down in a bloody mess, Alexandria gave off nothing by annoyance and vague embarrassment. The blonde next to her, Erica, just looked gleefully amused.

Alexandria reached out and shook Derek’s hand, another thing the others hadn’t (they’d all stuck their faces next to his an inhaled). Her handshake was firm and she shot him a small, apologetic smile. Erica just shot him a cheeky salute, not even trying to touch him, for which he was grateful.

“Alex,” she said, ignoring her mother’s exasperated look.

“Alexandria, Erica, that is not how we greet new wolves,” Christina admonished.

“It’s better than circling and basically sniffing his asshole like a dog,” Erica said.

“Language!” 

“English.”

The other Hardwicks started drifting away, distancing themselves from the conversation.

“I’m Derek,” he interrupted before Christina blew a gasket. “And I appreciate it.”

Alex shot her mother a triumphant look before turning her attention back to Derek. “We tried to explain to my madre that it’s a wee bit old-fashioned to pimp out her family members, especially, underage ones, but we were ignored.”

“Inter-pack betrothals are an established part of pack laws,” Christina said through gritted teeth. “And I would never encourage my underage daughter to take a mate.”

“No, just put me on layaway for one until I’m 18,” Alex muttered.

“Beta Hale,” Christina said, reverting to the formal titles. Derek wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to remind him of older pack customs or to take control of the situation. “Excuse my daughter. I trust you’d never believe we invited you to a lunar gathering simply as a prelude to a mating courtship.”

“Of course not,” Derek said smoothly. “That would be an extremely discourteous and egregious breach of inter-pack etiquette.” He fought not to smirk at the forced smile on Christina’s face or at Alex’s expression of glee. My might not enjoy playing politics but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. 

“Of course not. We would never want to offend a member of the once-great Hale Pack,” she said in a falsely sweet voice. Erica and Alex’s eyes were darting back and forth between them. Derek fought against the rising of his hackles, letting his own fake smile stretch across his face.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said, holding eye contact with Christina. To her credit, she held his gaze in silence until it was broken by Alex.

“Mom,” she said, interrupting what could have been a very long stare down. “Use your nose, he already has a claim started.” Derek fought not to blush as Christina leaned in and took a deep breath, frowning. “See? No hormone-honing pheromones going on. He isn’t casting his net anymore, he’s already got someone in mind.”

“An incomplete claim,” Christina said, waving her hand like it didn’t matter. To her, it probably didn’t.

“ _Mom_ ,” Alex hissed. “Doesn’t Dad need your help for the presentation?”

“Of course,” Christina said, straightening her back. “Beta Hale, please excuse me.” She melted back into the crowd and Derek finally felt able to relax.

“Sorry,” Alex said, shaking her head. “I’d say she isn’t normally that bad, but I’d be lying my ass off.” Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Your mother usually tries to set you up with complete strangers?”

“No, that one’s new,” she admitted. “But I’ve sat through a lot of lectures on the importance of breeding, maintaining wolf genetics, and strengthening the pack.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust while Erica mimed gagging next to her. “And I thought sex-ed in high school was bad enough.”

“How old are you?” Derek asked.

“17,” Alex answered. “I have six more months until my parents try to marry me off to an eligible, virile wolf.”

“Try?” Derek asked. Alex grinned, fangs dropping slightly.

“Try.”

Derek talked with Alex and Erica for most of the night, trying to get a feel for what the Hardwicks’ lunar runs were like. He was surprised to learn that Erica was from a different pack originally. Her parents had kicked her out after an alpha bit her to cure her epilepsy. The alpha had abandoned her and the Hardwicks had taken her in, a decision Derek got the feeling they regretted.

“They wanted new breeding stock,” Erica said. “They aren’t happy I haven’t popped any out yet.”

“How old are you?”

“22. I have a lot more shit to do before anything comes clawing its way out of me.”

Derek got the impression he was in for a weekend of pretention and werewolf bloodline preservationists (muggle-hating purebloods, as Laura put it). Or maybe his opinion was being clouded by Erica and Alex’s disdain, but he doubted it. Luckily, Erica and Alex seemed to be something of oddities in the pack, and not many people tried to approach with them by his side.

An hour into the werewolf social hour, a large man with gray at his temples stood and cleared his throat. The chatter died nearly instantly. The man was big all over, from his thick neck down to his barrel chest and tree trunk legs. He wasn’t fat, just large. Though he was clean-shaven and wearing nice jeans and a t-shirt, Derek could easily picture him looking just as at home in lumberjack plaid and a wildman beard.

He introduced himself as Andrew Hardwick, alpha of the Hardwick Pack, and introduced the four other alphas present. Of them all, only Laura didn’t cross her arms and glare, or puff out her chest with her chin raised. She inclined her head respectfully when her name was called, with a small smile on her face like she was finding something mildly amusing. As always, the ones who showed off the most tended to be the weakest. Of the alphas present, Derek knew the easy confidence of Andrew and Laura made them the two to watch. Judging by the calculating look on Erica’s face, she saw it, too.

Andrew Hardwick outlined the weekend, from activities available (yoga, who knew?) to the run parameters, ending on the all-day Sunday feast and recovery day. It was completely different from the runs the Hales had done when he was younger. The full moon had been about family, extended and immediate. It was about connecting with your pack and your wolf. This was about grandstanding and showing off.

Derek wasn’t interested in werewolf yoga or basket weaving or water balloon tosses, whatever summer camp group activities that were planned. Derek wanted to shed his skin, let his wolf roll over him in a tidal wave of wildness and animalistic instinct. The thrill of the chase.

“Ridiculous,” Erica said, shaking her head when Andrew was done talking. “Word of advice, avoid the yoga if you don’t want a bunch of asses in your face. They tend to favor the downward dog position.”

Derek had a brief image of Stiles, face down with his ass presented up in the air before he forced the thought aside. He did not need the smell of arousal wafting off him in a room full of breeding-happy werewolves.

Erica, Alex, and Derek went their separate ways when Laura came over and Christina beckoned the girls to her. Derek had never been happier to see Laura.

“You’re not leaving me alone for the rest of this weekend,” he hissed on the way back to the cabin, ignoring the curious glances of the others when they passed.

“Didn’t have fun?” Laura asked innocently. Derek shoulder checked her into a tree.

“You suck,” he said. Laura laughed.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. We’re through the worst of it, tomorrow is the run.” She threw an arm around his shoulders companionably. 

“’We’,” Derek muttered, but didn’t shake her off. She was right, though. The more he opened himself up, the more he could feel it. He lost himself in it, barely registering the rest of the walk to the cabin or getting ready for bed. 

The moon was tugging at Derek’s instincts, demanding attention, yanking his wolf to that surface. That included his increased awareness of what he now could recognize as a half-formed mating claim branded on him that he hadn’t even realized he’d made. It pushed and pulled at him like the moon-driven tide, nudging at everything Stiles. Stiles’ smile, his scent, the way his lithe body moved, it all screamed of mate and demanded Derek take, protect, to complete his claim. He didn’t even realize he was hard until he was hit in the face by one of Laura’s pillows.

“Wha-hey!”

“Derek, I swear to god, I do NOT want to smell that,” Laura growled. “Make it go away, put it away, now, now - ” She was cut off midsentence when Derek chucked the pillow right back at her. 

“It’s common courtesy to ignore things we smell that are out of our control,” he grumbled, burrowing under his blankets.

“It’s common courtesy to not get a boner where your sister can smell it,” Laura said. “Think of Santa in a thong, whatever, I don’t care, just knock it off!” 

“It’s not that easy!” Derek hissed, but he did what she asked. Though it turned out that Santa in a thong just served to remind him that Christmas was coming up in a few months and wondered what Stiles did around the holidays. He could spend them with Derek and Laura if he wasn’t going to fly out to see his dad or if he and Cassie weren’t…Cassie.

Someone might as well have dumped a bucket of ice over his head. Stiles was with Cassie. Had been for the better part of a year. Stiles was in a relationship and he didn’t know anything about werewolves and wouldn’t feel any mystical mating bond like Derek did. He didn’t want Derek as a man, let alone as a monster.

Derek pulled his pillow tighter to him and tried to will himself to fall asleep, desperately trying to ignore the feeling that his ribs had turned frozen and brittle and collapsed, stabbing into his chest. If Laura smelled the difference on him, she was kind enough to say nothing.

-

Laura and Derek woke up early, like they always did on the morning of a full moon. They ate a huge breakfast in the lodge, then ducked out when they saw Christina walk in, flanked by a few women. Derek ran out so fast, he still had scrambled eggs in his mouth and Laura was still carrying a few strips of bacon.

As per Erica’s advice, they avoided the yoga session like it was the plague. Instead, they made their way to the lake they’d found the day before. After a few laps around, Derek managed to sneak up behind Laura and toss her bodily into the lake.

“Derek!” she screamed, sputtering when she breached the surface. She struggled toward the beach, her tank top and shorts soggy on her slim frame.

“My alpha,” Derek said solemnly before he doubled over in laughter. With his head between his knees, he couldn’t see the soft look that replaced Laura’s glare. He couldn’t see how floored she was that he was so openly laughing, something she’d only recently seen on a small scale and only with Stiles. And he didn’t see her until she was right in front of him, grabbing his wrist and swinging him into the water.

“Alpha strength, bitch!” she yelled when his head popped up.

She launched herself into the water next to him, splashing him in the face. Derek splashed her right back and thus began the Hale sibling water fight. For a blissful half hour, Derek’s mind wasn’t on mates or werewolf breeding or guilt. It was on pulverizing his sister.

When they’d finally worn themselves out, they swam to the lake’s floating dock and climbed up, sprawling onto the wood. It was mid-fall in New York, so not exactly the nicest time of year, but it was unseasonably warm so Derek was sure their clothes would dry soon. Laura had been right, they’d needed this. The city was fine, he liked where they lived, but the woods, especially the woods on the full moon, was something he knew he needed to make room for in his life.

The Hardwick land was nice, but it wasn’t Derek’s. He wasn’t going to be running on his family’s land. He’d had idle thoughts about going back, dreams of the preserve. They still owned the land, but the pain that lanced through him when he thought too hard on Beacon Hills had always kept that to be no more than an errant thought. But now, maybe he could do it. Maybe he could run on the Hale land and reclaim the home he’s lost. Maybe rebuild it…

Derek woke up a few hours later when Laura kicked him into the lake. He’d tried to drag her in after him, but her “alpha reflexes, sucker!” kept her dancing out of his reach until she eventually dove into the lake. They slogged their way back to the cabin and got ready for an early dinner.

Derek and Laura pulled on the ratty old clothes they’d brought for the run, not bothering to shower (“That’s disgusting, Derek!” “We’re about to run through the wet, muddy, possibly bloody woods all night.” “…Fine.”) before heading to the lodge. It wasn’t quite full yet, but there were people scattered at the tables. Derek and Laura took a seat next to Erica who, by the look of it, was polishing off her third rack of ribs, and Alex, who somehow had barbeque sauce in her hair.

“Keep those judgey eyebrows down,” Alex said while Erica licked her fingers. Laura snorted.

“Remind you of Stiles?” Laura asked. Derek glared at her and dug into his own food.

“Ooh, Stiles,” Erica said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “Who’s Stiles?”

“No one,” Derek said.

“Oh, is this the girl you started the claiming bond with?” Alex asked.

“The guy,” Derek corrected before he could stop himself.

“What?”

“Stiles. He’s a man, not a woman,” Derek said through gritted teeth. 

Alex blinked.

“Oh,” she said, then grinned. “Oh! Oh this is amazing, Mom’s gonna be so pissed!”

“What.”

“Losing good breeding stock like you to the same team,” Erica said, punching his shoulder good-naturedly. “This is fantastic. Can you imagine the look on her face when I casually mention that you like dick?”

Laura snorted mid-drink and coughed, sputtering liquid all over the table. “You got tea in my sinus cavities!” she gasped. Derek couldn’t help but laugh.

“Still remind you of Stiles?” he asked.

“God, even more than before. May they never meet,” Laura said. She dabbed tea off her face with a grimace.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Erica said, going back to sucking barbeque sauce off the ribs in front of her. “Considering you’re pining over him, and all.”

“I’m not pining,” Derek said.

“Hella pining,” Alex said.

“You’re kind of pining,” Laura said.

“He has a girlfriend,” Derek hissed. “He’s been with her for months. He doesn’t want…” He cut himself off but from the looks on Laura, Erica, and Alex’s face, they knew what he was going to say.

“Derek,” Laura said gently, reaching out to him. He managed not to jerk away from her touch, but only just. “Derek, look at me.”

He hated when she pulled her alpha voice out. He met her eyes, though he let it show just how unhappy he was about it.

“Did you know Dad was engaged to someone else before Mom?” Laura asked in a soft voice. Derek jerked, startled.

“No, I – what?” Derek asked. Erica and Alex looked away and started talking in low voices, trying to give them the illusion of privacy.

“He was engaged to a girl he went to college with. He and Mom had been friends as kids and one day he said it just made sense and he knew he needed to be with Mom.”

“And how much of that was werewolf biology?” Derek muttered, but his mind was reeling with the new information about his parents.

“Derek Samantha Hale – “

“I hate you.”

“ – you know damn well what Mom and Dad had was more than wolf pheromones,” Laura said sternly. “You’re just using Cassie as an excuse to not say anything and wallow in your man-pain.”

“Laura, that’s not how it works.” Derek was having a hard time not snapping at his sister. “I don’t want to be the kind of person that tries to break up a relationship, okay?”

“At least tell him,” Erica said, apparently done pretending that she wasn’t listening. “Then you’ll actually have something to angst over.”

“You guys are horrible.”

Luckily, Derek was saved by Andrew Hardwick’s loud voice calling for attention. More people had trickled in while the four of them had been talking and it was like an electric current was jumping from person to person, and finally, it hit Derek. All thoughts of his family and Stiles slipped away in the presence of the full moon’s pull.

Hardwick kept it short, reminding them all of the territory’s boundaries, before sending everyone outside with a grandiose, “Let the lunar run commence!”

Derek didn’t really remember the walk outside, but he and Laura were at the trees’ edge. He’d never had issues pulling up the wolf, but this shift flowed better than it had in years, surging to the surface. The alphas were all in their alpha forms, some huge and monstrous, some sleek and quick-looking. All but Laura, who was looking at Derek and biting her lip.

“Go,” Derek said, nudging her shoulder with his own. They usually ran in beta form together, Laura not wanting Derek to feel like she was trying to pass him by. Derek didn’t think anything of the sort. “You deserve it, go ahead.”

Laura grinned, eyes red and canines extending. One second she was there and the next, he was standing next to a large, dark wolf with splashes of copper red in her fur. She was the only alpha who was in a full wolf shift. Derek could smell the envy wafting off of the other alphas and he didn’t even try to hide his smug grin.

They waited until the Hardwick alpha stalked into the trees, then everyone took off. Derek trailed close to Laura, not letting that brown and red fur out of his sight for more than a few minutes. He’d been vaguely worried that his wolf would be unsure in the unfamiliar territory and sluggish from being in the city for so long. He’d had nothing to fear. Derek flowed over roots and wove through trees and underbrush like water running through cracks in the ground.

The pack bond was wide open. Derek could feel Laura in front of him, like a tug at the end of a long, shining thread of light. Another golden thread led away from him, back toward New York. Derek fought the sudden urge to turn and follow it. He followed Laura.

A few wolves from other packs popped up every once in a while to play and romp around with the full-wolf alpha. At one point, Derek and Laura were chasing after a few deer and one unruly coyote when Derek caught a familiar scent. Two seconds later, Erica crashed into him with a mess of blonde hair and carefully positioned claws.

They tumbled to the forest floor, scrabbling with claws and teeth until Erica came out victorious, pinning Derek. Laura, who’d lain down nearby to watch, let out an unimpressed snort. Derek grunted and kicked Erica off of him and smoothly rolled to his feet. They romped around for a while more before Laura jumped into the fray, playfully snapping her jaws at them. Derek felt like a pup again.

They could’ve been at it for hours, Derek had issues keeping track of time on the full moon, but eventually Erica cocked her head to the side at one of the howls that were ringing through the forest. She gave them one last playful shove before bounding into the trees, answering her alpha’s call.

Laura butted her head into Derek’s side and they took off again, chasing animals and reveling in being surround by the woods. Pure contentment radiated between them through the pack link.

It was nearly dawn when everyone started trudging out of the woods. Some looked like Derek, clothes torn and filthy, skin covered in dirt. Some had shed their clothes, their nude bodies just as encased in grime as Derek’s exposed arms and face. A few parents were carrying exhausted children against their chests. 

Derek absentmindedly scratched Laura behind the ears on the trek back to their cabin. As soon as he made it to his bed, he collapsed face-first into the blankets. He heard the rustling that indicated that Laura had shifted back and was pulling on clothes before her hoarse voice called, “Shower…y’r gross.” 

Derek just grunted and let his bone-deep fatigue drag him to sleep.

-

Laura woke him up at 1:00 pm. She was showered, dressed, and entirely too perky. Derek just grunted at her and shoved his head further under his pillow. 

“I hate you,” he grumbled, voice muted.

“Not as much as you’re gonna,” she said. Laura wrapped a hand around his ankle and tugged, trying to yank him out of bed. Derek made a noise that he absolutely refused to admit was a squawk and kicked out with his other leg, breaking her grip.

“Up!” she said cheerily. “We’re gonna go take advantage of their ‘parting feast’ then blow this popsicle stand.”

“Or, you know, just sleep,” Derek said through a yawn.

“Nope, food. Free food.”

Derek’s rumbling stomach seemed to agree with Laura so he dragged himself out of bed and through the shower. The water flowing down his body was tinged brown with dirt and a little bit of blood. So he had to admit that Laura had a point about him needing a shower.

The lodge was half empty by the time Laura and Derek had filled their plates and sat down. The wolves scattered at other tables looked just as ragged as Derek felt. They sat next to Erica again, who was half asleep over her plate of scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes, and steak. Derek raised an eyebrow at her.

“Shut up,” she said, rubbing her eyes. She dug into her pocket for a moment before producing a piece of paper and shoving it to the Hale siblings. “My number. You guys are the only ones from this soiree that are worth keeping in contact with. And not because my wolf mama has an unhealthy fixation on Derek’s dick; I actually like you.”

Derek was too tired to even blush, but Laura reached forward and pocketed the number. Talking seemed to have taken all of Erica’s energy and she let her head fall forward onto the table with a thump.

“How adorable,” Laura said, ruffling Erica’s messy hair. “Have a little moon hangover?”

Erica turned enough to glare at Laura and ask Derek, “Is she always this goddamn peppy?”

“Only when she feels like being an asshole,” Derek said. Laura smacked the back of his head.

“Eat your food,” she said.

“Yes, Mom,” he grumbled. Laura gave him a soft smile before starting on her own lunch.

They ate their way through what felt like half their weight in food over the next two hours. Erica woke up a little when Alex and a few others from the Hardwick Pack joined them. They all made their pleasantries but were too bone weary to do anything but eat as much as they could.

This at least was similar to what Derek’s family had done when he was young. His mom and dad always made sure to have enough food to feed a small army (or a medium-sized werewolf pack) for the ravenous family. The full moon took a lot out of a wolf, even an alpha, and his mom had always stressed that they all needed a lot of nourishment the day after a full moon run. Derek smiled into his pork chop.

-

Laura and Derek thanked Andrew Hardwick before leaving. They barely managed to escape Christina, though that was partly due to Erica ‘accidentally’ knocking over a plate of wings at the buffet right onto Christina’s shoes.

Laura let Derek drive them back to the city. When they were twenty minutes away from their apartment, Laura placed a hand over Derek’s where it rested on the gearshift. She let her emotions bleed through the reenergized bond. The contentment, love, and pure happiness that Laura was radiating was enough to make Derek’s heart stutter.

“I know there were some parts that were less than fun, but, worth it?” she asked.

Derek paused. Besides Christina’s bizarre behavior, there was a newly strengthened bond between them, thanks to the first true run in years, and the conversations about their family that had ended in fond nostalgia instead of painful longing. Derek turned his hand over and laced his fingers with Laura’s, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing away from the road to look at her. “Yeah, it was worth it.”

Laura practically beamed.

-

Monday morning shifts were the bane of Derek’s existence. That coupled with his lingering exhaustion from the full moon made him less than thrilled when he dragged himself out of bed the next morning. His bad mood darkened significantly when he walked into the living room/kitchen area and was immediately assaulted by loud grunts, gasps, and the distinctive banging of a headboard coming from the wall the living room shared with Stiles. Laura shuffled out a few minutes later to the sight of Derek hunched over the counter, glaring at his bowl of Fruity Pebbles.

She shook her head at him and said, “Go to work. Try not to kill anyone.”

Derek didn’t make any noise other than a grunt, but he did stand up and stalk out of the apartment.

“I’m not putting your Fruity Pebbles away!” she yelled after him. Derek just grunted again and slammed the front door behind him.

-

Derek managed to keep himself from killing anyone at the garage, but only just. There was a tense moment when he was sorely tempted to throw a tire iron at his shitty coworker’s head (said coworker almost dropped a car off its lift, right onto Derek’s head), but he refrained. Maybe he’d yank the other man’s carburetor out later.

He had a shift at the bar later that night, which managed to wipe out what little energy he had left. It was past midnight when Derek finally got home. When he walked into the apartment, Laura was sitting on the couch, sketching something on the drawing pad Derek had given her for her birthday. She looked up and waved when he closed the door.

“What’s up, little bro?”

“Dinner?” he asked. 

Laura was on her feet in half a second. “Oriental Garden is open until 1:00 am,” she said. She grabbed her bag and met him by the door. “I’m starving, let’s go.” She shoved Derek out of the door and into a very startled Stiles.

“Whoa!” Stiles threw a hand out to Derek’s chest. Derek was eternally grateful that Stiles wasn’t a werewolf and couldn’t feel the way Derek’s heart sped up at the contact. “Hey, still all buff, okay,” Stiles said, his face heating up. Derek smiled.

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek said. “Just like when I saw you three days ago.”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Stile muttered. “How was your guys’ bonding, woodsy spa weekend?”

“Really good actually, we – “

“Communed with nature?” Stiles interrupted. “Meditated at sunset? Basket weaving? Hair braiding?”

“You know it,” Laura said. “You seemed to have a good weekend too if yesterday is anything to go by.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, cocking his head to the side. Derek tried not to groan. He didn’t need to talk about Cassie and Stiles’ sex life.

“I think the headboard-shaking, ear-splitting sex indicated a good weekend,” Laura teased.

Stiles stilled, face twisting from confusion to pain, before going carefully neutral. It was then that Derek really took in Stiles’ appearance. His clothes were rumpled and smelled like stale, plane cabin air, and his eyes were a little bloodshot. In his white-knuckled grip was a large duffle bag. 

Derek’s stomach dropped when Stiles’ scent curdled with sadness. Stiles lifted the bag wordlessly to Laura and Derek’s matching looks of slack jawed horror.

“Stiles…” Derek said.

“Last minute weekend conference,” was all Stiles said. “Work sent me to Chicago.”

Derek’s wolf bristled and it wasn’t with jealousy but with anger. The sour smell of despair swirling around Stiles was wrong, so different than his usual warm scent. This was a Stiles in distress and it was killing Derek. Laura gave a sub vocal whine and made an aborted motion toward Stiles. He didn’t seem to notice, gaze on his front door. Derek was horrified to see Stiles’ eyes glassy with threatening tears.

“I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?” he muttered and turned to his front door, fiddling with the keys in his fingers.

“Yeah, I – yeah,” Laura said, cheeks red. She dragged Derek into their apartment, closing the door with Stiles still standing in the hall. “Oh my god,” she hissed, slapping at Derek’s shoulder. “Oh my god, what the hell?” Derek batted her hands away.

“I don’t know,” he said. His heart was aching for Stiles. Yeah, he hadn’t wanted Stiles to be with Cassie, but he’d never wish that on Stiles. The look of hurt and betrayal on his face, it pained Derek. It actually physically hurt him somewhere around his sternum and it hit him then that he was actually feeling Stiles’ pain. He looked at Laura and her wide eyes mirrored his own shock.

“What…” Derek said.

“It’s the pack bond,” Laura said quietly. “I didn’t even know. I don’t, he isn’t…when did Stiles become pack?” Derek shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. He felt Laura shut down the pack link, cutting off the flood of Stiles’ emotions. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Laura said, shaking her head. “What a bitch.”

That’s when the yelling next door started.

”In my own bed? Are you shitting me Cassie?!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen!”

“So what, you just fell down and happened to land on a dick?” Stiles shouted. Cassie sobbed.

“Stiles, it was a mistake!” 

“No, me wasting eleven months with you was,” Stiles said coldly.

“Go Stiles,” Laura said.

”You ass! Look, I get it, I was wrong. You have to know that he didn’t meant anything to me, he was just some stupid guy from class!” 

Stiles exploded.

“I took you in! You’ve lived here rent-free for two months and you fuck someone in my home, in my BED?” Stiles’ voice was shaking with rage, deeper and harsher than Derek had ever heard it. “Either he meant enough to completely destroy everything we had, or he meant nothing and you’re just selfish and bitchy enough to do whatever you want and I just don’t matter. So, which is it?”

“I just, I don’t know Stiles.” Cassie broke off, crying softly. “Stiles, you know I care about you. I was weak, okay? We can get past this, we can be okay!”

“You are weak,” Stiles said coldly. “I can’t trust you. You’ve shit all over our relationship and you need to leave.”

“What?” Cassie gasped. “No, Stiles, we can – “

“We can’t,” he interrupted. “You fucked up and I’m not forgiving you. You need to go.”

“Stiles…”

“Now.” Stiles’ voice was hard and final. There was no wiggle room, no indication that he’d be swayed. Cassie seemed to know it, too because it was quiet for a few moments, then a shuffling that sounded to Derek like a bag being packed, then the opening and closing of the front door.

“Damn, don’t mess with Stiles,” Laura said, then seemed to realize they’d been standing just inside their front door for five minutes, listening to Stiles and Cassie fight. “Come on, let’s at least pretended we aren’t eavesdropping douches,” she said, clasping Derek’s shoulders and steering him deeper into the apartment, dinner plans forgotten by both.

Derek huffed but let her push him into the living room. He turned on the TV to a Golden Girls rerun just to piss off Laura. He never watched that show on his own, no, of course not. Laura just curled on the couch and pulled him down next to her. A pack member was hurting, even though it was a member they hadn’t realized they’d had, and it was instinct to physically comfort. Since Stiles wasn’t there, well, they had each other.

They were halfway through the third episode, Laura half asleep on her shoulder, when a soft, tentative knock came from the front door. It was quiet enough that if Derek weren’t a werewolf, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. He carefully extracted himself from Laura, who called him an asshole, and answered the door. Stiles was on the other side. His eyes were rimmed with red and he was wringing his hands.

“Hey, um, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” he asked.

“No,” Derek said. “You’re fine.”

“Oh good, yeah, that’s good,” Stiles said, still rubbing his hands. “Um.”

Derek reached out, covering Stiles’ hands with one of his own. Stiles stilled, starting at Derek.

“Did you want to come in? Laura and I are watching Golden Girls,” he said without thinking, though the shocked laugh it got from Stiles was worth it.

“Yeah, I’m always down for some Bea Arthur,” Stiles said, following Derek inside. 

“She’s Derek’s favorite, too,” Laura said from the couch, rubbing at her eyes.

Stiles snorted and looked at Derek who shrugged but didn’t deny it. Laura patted the space on the couch next to her and squeezed Stiles into a fierce hug as soon as he sat down. Derek sat on Stiles’ other side and, after some eyebrow signals from Laura, hesitantly put a warm palm on Stiles’ back, right between his shoulder blades. The tension in Stiles’ body melted and he gave a shuddering sigh.

Derek had about five million emotions swirling in him, fighting for dominance. The two that came out on top were anger on Stiles’ behalf and a deep need to comfort and protect. Derek rubbed soothing circles on Stiles’ back, his wolf preening when the other man relaxed further under his touch. Laura was petting Stiles’ hair, making low, soothing noises. 

This was pack, something they’d been missing for years. Derek didn’t know how a pack bond affected a human but Stiles was calming down. His breathing and heart rate were evening out and the stench of anxiety faded until there was nothing but Stiles’ usual scent mixed with a bit of sadness.

Stiles pulled out of the hug and shifted so that he still had his head on Laura’s shoulder. The movement forced Derek’s hands off of Stiles’ back, but the smaller man stayed pressed up against him. Derek’s hand hovered uncertainly for a second before he gently placed it on Stiles’ knee. Stiles hummed contentedly, not tensing under the touch. Derek squeezed Stiles’ knee lightly and let his hand stay there as he settled back into the couch, Dorothy yelling at Blanche on TV.

Three episodes later, Laura was completely dead to the world, head lolling on the arm of the couch. Stiles was tucked into Derek’s side, warm and pliant, with Laura’s feet under his thighs.

“You know,” Stiles said softly, “it’s like…I know it’s over, and I’m sad. But I feel like I should be a lot more upset.”

Derek hummed and dropped his arm to Stiles’ shoulder from where it had been resting across the back of the couch. He gave Stiles’ shoulder a brief but tight squeeze and said, “You’re not _supposed_ to feel any specific way. There’s no guidebook; you experience your feelings in whatever way is natural to you.” 

Stiles turned his head slightly to meet Derek’s eyes. 

“That’s one of the longest sentences I’ve ever heard you say,” Stiles teased. “Seriously though, that’s very wise of you.” 

Derek glanced to the side, eyes focused somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder. 

“My therapist told me that,” he said, fighting off a blush of embarrassment. He’d never told Stiles about his therapist. 

But Stiles smiled softly. “Wise of you to listen to her, then,” he said, no trace of judgement in his voice. Derek felt a surge of affection for Stiles.

“I guess so,” Derek said, a little lost as to what to say.

“I know so,” Stiles insisted. “My dad made me see someone for a while after my mom died, but I just sat there and didn’t say anything. So, seriously, it’s great that you go. And that you listen.”

“Laura made me,” Derek admitted.

Stiles snorted and leaned his head back so his neck wasn’t craning to look at Derek anymore, and turned his eyes back to the TV.

“Sounds like her battering ram personality,” Stiles said. “Well I’m still glad you went.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They both faded into sleep a few minutes later. Derek dreamed Stiles was wearing Dorothy’s clothes, slapping Laura, who looked suspiciously like Blanche but in a dog costume, with a rolled up newspaper.

-

Derek woke up obnoxiously early on the couch. He was the only one still there. When he got up and walked into the kitchen, Laura was already clunking around as if she actually could cook.

“Morning,” she said. Derek grunted, pulling granola and a bowl out of the cupboards. “Stiles had to go to work. He said he’d text you later.” Laura waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh,” Derek said. “Good.”

“You ‘oh’ all you want,” Laura said, pointing her spoon at him, “but tell me that wasn’t the best you’ve slept in a while.”

Derek shrugged and focused on his cereal, but he knew Laura was right. He didn’t know if it was a pack thing or a Stiles thing, but his wolf was curled up and content in a way it hadn’t been in years.

-

Stiles more or less became a permanent fixture in the Hales’ lives. They used to see him a few times a week, tops, with a movie night in between. Now, it was rarer for Derek not to see Stiles everyday than the other way around. Some nights Stiles and Derek spent with just each other, trying new recipes or just lazing around, but they spent most of their time in the kitchen or living room, joining Laura for dinner or a game of Uno or whatever.

Stiles’ scent started to seep into the walls and furniture, his smell lingering long after he left. It calmed Derek; he hadn’t even realized just how well he hadn’t been sleeping until he woke up one morning refreshed and well-rested, comforted by Stiles’ scent. Laura stared at him like he’d grown a second head when he walked into the kitchen, already showered and dressed at 7:00 am without any grumbling, swearing, or threatening. He actually gave her a small smile as he poured granola into his yogurt.

“What?” he asked. Laura still gaped at him. He looked down at himself. “Seriously, what? Do I have a stain somewhere?”

“You haven’t thrown anything,” she said, eyes wide. “Or threatened to kill me.”

“Yeah?”

“No doors have been slammed, nothing broken…”

“Your point?” Derek asked, irritation slipping into his voice.

“Aha!” Laura said triumphantly, wildly brandishing a finger in his direction. “There’s the normal, early morning grump Derek I know and have come to tolerate.”

Derek just rolled his eyes and ate his breakfast.

“Seriously? Not even a growl? Did you swallow a bottle of Valium?” Laura asked, poking him in the ribs. Derek twisted away from her finger, dumping his dishes in the sink and heading to the door. “This is unnatural!” Laura yelled.

“I love you, too!” he called before shutting the door.

-

They were in the middle of an MCU movie binge, a few months post-Cassie, when Derek noticed that Stiles’ scent had evened out, all traces of the lingering sadness that had tinged it were gone. 

Derek was sprawled on Stiles’ couch, the other man’s feet in his lap. Laura was in the overstuffed chair nearby, texting. They were about to start Iron Man 2, Stiles’ least favorite (“No one wants self-destructive Tony! And losing his friends, like what the hell?”) but he insisted it needed to be watched for the sake of completion.

“Stop squirming,” Derek said, curling a hand around Stiles’ ankle when he shifted for what felt like the hundredth time in five minutes.

“I can’t help it,” Stiles whined. “They made me give a talk at a high school today. Hours of standing, Derek, hours! My feet are going to be bruised!”

“You run at least three times a week,” Derek pointed out. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I run in running shoes! Not those stupid dress things Lydia made me wear to Scott’s wedding! I swear I’m gonna – hnnng!” Stiles cut himself off with a deep groan when Derek pressed his thumb into the arch of Stiles’ foot. “Oh my god, dude, oh my _god_.”

Derek rolled his eyes but kept at it, rubbing Stiles’ feet with a firm, solid pressure. A low, spicy hit of arousal started emanating from Stiles. That wasn’t really anything new, Derek had smelled Stiles’ arousal before, but that combined with the absolutely obscene moan that Stiles let out when Derek hit a particularly sore spot, Derek was having a lot of trouble keeping his mind above the waist. He shifted Stiles’ legs slightly away from the growing problem pressed against the front of his jeans.

Laura threw a dirty glare at Derek, who shrugged helplessly back. He moved to Stiles’ ankles, rubbing his hand up the soft skin. Stiles shivered and muttered, “You are my king,” his arousal spiking. That seemed to be the last straw for Laura. She pushed herself out of her chair and made a beeline for Stiles’ front door. 

“If I wanted to watch foot porn, I’d be on PornHub,” she said.

Stiles flushed but yelled, “You’re just jealous you don’t have a sexy massage partner!”

Laura flipped him off before slamming the door. Derek’s hands stilled.

“Sexy massage partner, huh?” Derek asked.

“Uh, yeah, you’ve seen you,” Stiles said, his fading blush coming back in full force. “Speaking of, you’re slacking, chop-chop!” Stiles wiggled his feet in Derek’s lap for emphasis. Derek huffed but continued his ministrations.

“Massage partner implies this goes both ways,” Derek pointed out mildly. It was becoming more and more difficult to ignore his own arousal, especially with the smell of Stiles all around him and the racing pulse under his hands.

“Oh it will,” Stiles said, waving his long fingers in front of him. “Trust me, the magic fingers got this.”

Derek’s mouth went dry. He stared at Stiles’ long, thin fingers, imagining what they’d feel like on him, wrapped around his dick, or slowly opening him up. Derek swallowed and jerked his eyes to Stiles’ face just in time to see Stiles’ gaze follow the movement of Derek’s throat. 

Stiles pulled himself up into a sitting position, knees slightly bent so his feet were still in Derek’s lap. Derek gripped them tightly as Stiles leaned toward him, gnawing at his lower lip. Derek unconsciously licked his lips, a movement Stiles’ eyes tracked.

“Derek,” Stiles said lowly, covering Derek’s hand with one of his own. There were only inches between their faces. “Tell me I’m not reading this wrong.”

Derek twisted his hand and linked his fingers with Stiles’.

“You’re not reading this wrong,” Derek said.

That was all Stiles needed. He closed the distance between them, nudging Derek’s nose with his own, before pressing their lips together. It was chaste, tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to. When Stiles pulled back, his eyes were slightly wide and questioning.

Derek traced a finger over Stiles’ lips, cupping his jaw with one hand, then grasped the back of his neck with the other, yanking him into a kiss. This one wasn’t chaste; it was passion and violence, Derek nipping at Stiles’ lips. Stile groaned and opened his mouth, letting Derek explore every inch of his mouth, working to chase away Stiles’ insecurity and fiercely claiming him.

Stiles scrambled into Derek’s lap, Derek’s hands settling on Stiles’ hips. Stiles braced himself on Derek’s shoulders and all but attacked the other man’s mouth, grinding down into his lap. Both gasped when their clothed erections dragged against each other, Stiles’ hair grasped in Derek’s fist.

“Wait,” Derek gasped, pulling back, though it killed him to do so. “Wait, Stiles.”

“Why?” Stiles asked, immediately stopping. “What’s wrong?”

“I just – I can’t,” Derek stuttered, struggling to find the words while his wolf of howling at him for stopping. “I don’t want to just be a rebound.”

Stiles’ eyes softened at that. He leaned in, giving Derek a gentle kiss, then rested their foreheads together. “Impossible,” Stiles whispered. His hands on Derek’s shoulders were balled in fists in his shirt, like he could physically keep Derek there by the fabric. “It’d be impossible, Derek. You could never just be a rebound to me.” Derek shifted, jostling Stiles in his lap and making him let out a whimper.

“You just got out of a long relationship and I’m…not the easiest person – “

“Derek,” Stiles said firmly. He took Derek’s face between his hands, rubbing his thumbs over Derek’s cheekbones. “I know what, _who_ , I want. Just because my thing with Cassie was long…length is no measure of emotion, okay?”

Derek nodded, nuzzling into Stiles’ touch. “Okay,” Derek said.

“I was never excited with her. I cared about her, but it was never thrilling or passionate. And I never looked at her and saw a life or love or anything.” Stiles paused, making sure Derek was listening. “I’ve never had this frantic, fervent feeling or any of that ‘til now. I really want this to go somewhere.”

Derek smiled.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Me, too.” Stiles grinned.

“Oh thank god I didn’t just scare the hell out of you,” Stiles said and threw himself forward, wrapping himself around Derek and latching onto his mouth.

“Never,” Derek said between kisses. Stiles wanted him back. Not just for a night, but really wanted him. Derek’s wolf howled in joy.

Derek trailed his mouth down Stiles’ neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He nuzzled at the crook where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder, nudged the shirt aside, and started sucking an impressive mark onto the skin.

“Guh,” Stiles gasped, throwing his head to the side to give Derek better access. He might not know what baring his neck did for Derek, but Derek did his best to show his appreciation. Pushing Stiles back until he was lying on the couch, Derek covered Stiles’ body with his own. Biting back a gasp, Stiles rolled his hips up, grinding his erection against Derek’s.

“Too many clothes,” Stiles said, yanking at Derek’s shirt. “This, off.”

Derek yanked his shirt over his head and Stiles’ hands were immediately on Derek, roaming over his chest and shoulders and back. Leaning up, Stiles ran his mouth lightly over Derek’s chest, teeth grazing a nipple. Derek’s breath hitched and he tightened his grip on Stiles’ hips.

“God,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Lips trailed down Derek’s chest, hands joining Stiles’ mouth. “Running with you is torture, Christ.”

It’d been an embarrassingly long time since Derek had gotten laid, and between Stiles rutting against him and his litany, Derek was about to lose it. He pulled back just out of reach of Stiles’ mouth, which immediately turned down in a pout, and tugged at the hem of Stiles’ shirt. Stiles raised himself enough for Derek to yank the shirt off then settled back onto the couch. 

Derek couldn’t decide where to look, so his eyes raked over every inch of that pale skin, dotted with little moles. He licked his lips, overwhelmed with how much he wanted Stiles. The look on Stiles’ face, looking up like _he_ was the lucky one, lucky to be there with Derek, made Derek’s heart clench. 

Stiles blushed under Derek’s scrutiny, smelling vaguely like embarrassment. He moved his arms as if to cover himself but Derek grabbed him by the wrists, pinning his hands above his head.

“No,” Derek growled. “Don’t.” Stiles nodded, arousal spiking. Derek smirked and pushed on Stiles’ wrists once, said, “Stay,” then let go. Stiles stayed.

It was like Derek’s hands had a mind of their own, ghosting down Stiles’ sides, making the other man shiver. Derek took his time, touching every inch of Stiles’ skin. Stiles nearly bucked Derek off of him when he tweaked one of Stiles’ nipples. Derek bared his teeth, grinning. 

“Sensitive?” Derek asked mildly, then pinched the firm nub, rolling it gently with his fingers. 

“Fuck you,” Stiles gasped, writhing under Derek.

“Next time,” Derek said, fingers toying with the waistband of Stiles’ sweats and boxers.

“Come on, Derek, come on,” Stiles whimpered, shifting under Derek’s touch.

“Impatient,” Derek tsked, but he was easily as affected as Stiles, dick straining against the front of his pants. He lifted Stiles’ hips and eased his sweats and boxers down in one go. Stiles’ dick hit his stomach with a wet noise, making Derek bite back a moan at how much pre-come Stiles was already leaking. 

“At some point, we’re going to go slow,” Derek said, tracing the vee of Stiles’ hips. “And I’m going to take your apart, piece by piece, for hours. Until I’ve milked out every last scream and ounce of pleasure from you.”

“Derek,” Stiles moaned, pushing his hips up in a desperate search for friction.

“Next time, I’m going to make you forget everything,” Derek growled, voice deep and almost as wrecked as Stiles’. “But right now, I need to get inside you.”

Stiles let out a long, obscene moan as Derek took his cock in hand. He jacked Stiles slowly, teasing his slit with his thumb before stroking him again, all tight, slick heat.

“Tell me,” Derek said, squeezing the base of Stiles’ dick, who sobbed in response. “Tell me this is okay.”

“Wha-?” Stiles asked, his chest heaving.

Derek leaned in and kissed Stiles, long and filthy, before pulling away to say, “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, so tell me now.”

“Oh! Fuck, yes Derek. I am 100% ecstatically consenting,” Stiles said. His arm twitched like he was about to reach for Derek, but kept it where Derek had told him to. “Yes, fuck me, please.”

Derek yanked Stiles up by his shoulders and kissed him, licking his way into Stiles’ mouth before hissing, “Bed.”

Stiles scrambled off the couch, tripping over his discarded pants before Derek righted him. Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him into his room, somewhere Derek had never been. It was eclectic, like the rest of Stiles’ place, and had pictures and art everywhere, but that’s as far as he noticed before Stiles was kissing him again like he was trying to climb into Derek’s mouth.

“Not fair,” Stiles muttered against Derek’s lips. “You, you need to be naked, too.” His long fingers deftly undid Derek’s jeans and slid them down his hips, followed by his black boxer briefs. Stiles sucked in a breath at the sight of Derek nude before him. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” Stiles whispered in awe.

Derek rolled his eyes but blushed anyways. His pants pooled at his ankles as he stepped out of them, pushing Stiles back onto the bed in one smooth motion. For his part, Stiles scrambled to the head of the bed, rifling around in the nightstand before pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He threw it at Derek and the bottle would have hit him in the face were it not for werewolf reflexes.

“Oops, shit, sorry!” Stiles flailed back, hands up in surrender. 

Derek just tossed the bottle back onto the bed and crawled up the mattress, all predatory grace. Stiles’ dick was flushed deep red and just begging to be tasted. Derek obliged, licking up the shaft and swirling his tongue over the head. Stiles swore and his hips bucked up, but Derek threw an arm over his waist to hold him down.

The sounds coming out of Stiles’ mouth were absolutely obscene; long, drawn out moans, bitten off whimpers, and sobs that echoed around the room, even over the loud, sucking noises of Derek’s mouth. When Derek glanced up, Stiles was staring down at him, pupils completely blown, like Derek was the 8th wonder of the world. That was it, he needed to be in Stiles immediately. Stiles made a protesting sound when Derek pulled off but turned it into a groan when he saw Derek reach for the lube.

It took a few tries but Derek managed to coat his fingers completely. He circled Stiles’ hole slowly, slicking him up. Mouthing at Stiles’ cock, Derek slid a finger in, surprised at how easily Stiles opened up for him, his ass grasping at Derek’s digit.

“You do this to yourself, don’t you?” Derek asked. Stiles whimpered. With a twist of his hand, Derek found Stiles’ prostate, making Stiles shout. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes,” Stiles stammered. Derek eased in a second finger, Stiles’ hole clinging to his thick digits so greedily. “Fuck, Derek!”

“Soon,” Derek promised. He worked his fingers quickly, scissoring and twisting to stretch Stiles as fast as possible. It was only took a couple of minutes until Derek was up to three fingers, thrusting into Stiles over and over, spurred on by Stiles’ grunts.

“Look at you, taking it so well. You’re doing so well, Stiles,” Derek said with a hard thrust, nailing Stiles’ prostate.”

“God, fuck get inside me, I’m ready, I fucked myself with a toy earlier, please, Derek I – “ Stiles’ babbling was cut off when Derek pulled his fingers free with a low groan, ripping the foil of the condom package and slipping it on.

“Shh, I got you,” Derek said, lining himself up, dick just nudging Stiles’ loose hole. He pushed forward just a little, the ring of muscle stretching around his head. Derek watched the tip of his cock disappear into Stiles, he pretty little hole stretching around him.

“Does your toy fill you up?” Derek asked, stopping with just his tip inside. He had no idea where this was coming from; he’d never been vocal in bed before, never had the urge but fuck, Stiles brought this out in him, this possessive need. “It is enough or do you need this? A dick inside your tight little ass? Does your toy fuck you raw?”

Stiles canted his hips, trying to fuck himself onto Derek but Derek held his steady with firm hands on his hips.

“Please, Derek,” Stiles begged, voice completely wrecked. Exactly how Derek wanted him.

“Since you asked so nicely…” And he slammed in, Stiles screaming in pleasure under him. The pace he set was brutal but Stiles was loving it, meeting Derek’s thrusts when he could but mostly he was just along for the ride. This was what Derek’s wolf had been craving, a way to claim Stiles as his own. Mark Stiles as his in a way that any wolf with a nose or eyes wouldn’t be able to miss.

Stiles would have fingertip-shaped bruises on his hips from Derek the next day, but Derek needed more. He pushed Stiles’ legs to the sides, spreading him further and pressing his body to Stiles’, attacking the hickey he’d started earlier on Stiles’ neck. There was a flush spreading over Stiles’ neck and shoulder from Derek’s stubble; dark, beautiful, and angry-looking.

Their bodies were pushed flush together, trapping Stiles’ cock between his stomach and Derek’s, each vicious thrust sliding the older man’s abs against him. Stiles thrust his hips up in time with Derek, forcing him deeper.

“Derek,” Stiles moaned. “Derek, fuck, I’m gonna come, I need…”

“Stiles,” Derek said, worming a hand between them to grasp Stiles’ leaking dick. He stroked him, hard and fast, tilting Stiles’ hips up and nailing his prostate. “I’ve got you,” he said over Stiles’ mewling whimper, teeth dragging against the shell of his ear. “Come on, Stiles. Come for me.”

Stiles screamed when he came, his nails raking down Derek’s back. Stiles’ hole clenched and spasmed around Derek’s dick, forcing his orgasm through him. He stilled, pulsing inside Stiles with his dick pressed against Stiles’ prostate, milking the other man’s pleasure. Stiles sobbed out Derek’s name, his cock spilling between them, coating their stomachs. He was caught in wave after wave of pleasure, the firm pressure on his prostate pushing him until it was almost too much. Right before the edge of pleasure became too much, Derek pulled back just enough to take the pressure of that spot inside, but didn’t pull out.

Panting, Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’, all but collapsing on top of the other man, his cock still twitching inside Stiles. Stiles, loose-limbed and pliant, wound his arms around Derek’s shoulders, clutching the werewolf to him. They spent a long time like that, their sweaty bodies pressed together as they breathed in the same air, waiting for their heartrates to return to normal.

Derek ran his hands up and down Stiles’ flank and nuzzled behind his ear, scent marking him, as if he wasn’t already soaked in Derek’s scent. Stiles didn’t seem to mind the extra attention, humming his contentment and petting Derek’s hair. His low rumble of approval made Stiles shiver, then both of them gasped when the movement made Stiles’ hole flutter around where Derek was still buried deep.

Derek eased out of Stiles, earning a low groan, and rolled to the side, deliberately tangling his legs with Stiles’ while he pulled off the used condom and tossed it into the trash by the bed. His wolf was delighted at finally taking its mate and Derek couldn’t resist dragging his hand down Stiles’ torso, coating his finger in the cooling come pooled there, and farther down to Stiles’ loose and abused hole. A low whine escaped Stiles’ lips as Derek probed at his puffy rim, then dipped in two fingers, feeding Stiles’ come into his hole. Stiles’ cock tried to give an interested twitch.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, fingers stilling inside. Stiles nodded with a content sigh. Derek took that as permission and kept scooping come from Stiles’ stomach and pressing it into his fluttering hole, which tried to grasp at Derek’s fingers, but was too slack and fucked open. He kept his face buried in Stiles’ neck, lips ghosting over his throat, until he eventually withdrew his fingers. Stiles made a protesting noise at the loss, a sound that Derek swallowed down, covering Stiles’ mouth with his own. When Derek pulled back, he was pleased to see Stiles’ eyes glassy with a blissful look on his face. 

“Look at you,” Derek said softly, running his fingers, the same fingers still tacky with come, down Stiles’ jawline, cupping his face. Stiles leaned into the touch, nuzzling Derek’s hand in a gesture so wolf-like that Derek had to close his eyes to make sure they weren’t flashing. “So perfect.”

“How are you even real?” Stiles asked, his voice hoarse.

Derek kissed Stiles softly before rolling out of bed. Stiles raised his eyebrow, biting his lip like he actually thought that Derek was leaving him. As if Derek actually could. He made a shushing noise and leaned back down to kiss Stiles’ forehead.

“Just getting a washcloth,” Derek said. Stiles relaxed back against the sheets.

“Continue,” Stiles said, waving his hand in the direction of the door.

It only took a few moments for Derek to come back, a warm rag in his hand. He wiped Stiles down, gently running the cloth between Stiles’ cheeks, before cleaning himself. He tossed the rag to the side and crawled back into bed, pulling Stiles’ warm body to him. The air stank of sex, the mingling smell filling the room.

“That _wasn’t_ you taking me apart?” Stiles asked. His voice was slightly muffled from his face being pressed into Derek’s chest. Derek chuckled, the vibration running through Stiles.

“Oh no. You’ll know when I do,” he promised. Stiles shivered, burrowing deeper into Derek’s arms. 

“You’re a maniac” Stiles mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

“Sleep,” Derek said, kissing Stiles’ temple.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Stiles asked.

Derek smiled against Stiles’ skin, eyes closing.

“I’ll be here.”

-

Derek made Stiles breakfast the next morning, pleased to see the mark he’d left where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder, dark against the pale skin. Stiles kept rubbing at it absently with a smile while he ate. Stiles kissed him when Derek left. He didn’t want to, but he seriously needed to get ready for work. Derek’s heart clenched at how perfectly domestic it was. Then Stiles smacked his ass on his way out of the door. 

A grin threatened to spread over his face all day. He coworkers gave him hell.

-

Dating Stiles was simultaneously exactly the same and completely different from what he’d expected. He’d expected the affection, Stiles had never really been quiet about what he thought, and he definitely didn’t skimp out on showing just what he thought about Derek. Whenever he could, he told Derek how lucky he was to have Derek in his life. He told Derek how beautiful he was, how smart.

Stiles was also very tactile, almost like a wolf, always bestowing little touches when he walked by, or when they were eating, in bed…Derek expected to fall hard, he’d known he was probably ruined for other people because of Stiles. What he hadn’t expected was for Stiles to seem to fall nearly as hard. Laura called them both disgusting.

Derek didn’t care. This was happiness in its purest form, something Derek had firmly believed could never exist for him. His therapist was thrilled for him and made him promise not to do something stupid, like leave Stiles “for his own good, or some other bullshit.” Derek thought Stiles would like Dr. Cane. 

It was weird, honestly. Derek wasn’t used to the constant happiness. Waking up with Stiles wrapped up in his arms or starfished across the bed was probably the best part of Derek’s day. At least until he and Stiles went out, or argued over movies, or when Stiles was buried deep inside Derek, panting against his skin. Every moment with Stiles was the best part of his day. Laura punched him. Repeatedly.

“If you two get any more Hallmark movie on me, I’m going to puke on you.”

She was right, though. They still argued and snarked back and forth, but they always came back with that soft look in their eyes and quiet kisses. Laura was right, they were absolutely disgusting.

“You’re beautiful,” Derek murmured into Stiles’ ear when he was almost asleep. “You’re perfect, brilliant, gorgeous, just, god Stiles, you’re everything.”

The first time he’d told Stiles this, Stiles had wiggled in closer to Derek’s chest, tucking his head under the larger man’s chin, and said, “Der, I’m not –“

“Shh,” Derek interrupted, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. “Sleep. You’re everything.” 

Stiles slowly stopped protesting when Derek told him all of this. He kept blushing, but stopped arguing. Derek hoped that meant that Stiles was starting to believe him.

Sex…Derek had never loved sex as much as he did with Stiles. He’d found a new kind of nirvana when Stiles’ long fingers were buried deep in Derek’s ass. And with his cock in Stiles’ mouth. And the taste of Stiles on his tongue. He could admit that he was a little addicted, but he loved rolling out of bed in the morning, legs like jelly from orgasms, leaving Stiles smelling like he’d bathed in Derek’s come, just as he loved going to work reeking of Stiles.

Things were actually great. Derek was shocked. 

Derek had been a little worried that living next to Stiles would be a problem. Maybe Stiles would get tired of him, realize he could do so much better. He’d see Derek when he was coming home from work, dirty and grumpy, see everything. If he wanted to break from Derek, Derek would be SOL with Stiles one thin wall away.

Against all odds, in Derek’s opinion, none of that seemed to bother Stiles. His company finally made him come into the office instead of working from home (“Those comfort-hating bastards”), so their schedules didn’t always mesh up. Sometimes he’d see Stiles rushing out the door, arm tangled in his shirt as he tried to put it on and lock the door at the same time. That was only when Stiles was late, though. He always kissed Derek anyway.

Luckily enough, Stiles’ office was only a few miles from the garage where Derek worked. Derek didn’t usually like to do it, but he pulled rank on the other mechanics at the garage (besides the owner, Frank, Derek had been there the longest) and took a long lunch. Well, a regular lunch, just long for him since he never took a lunch.

Stiles’ company had two floors in a tall, pretentious looking building. It didn’t have a doorman, which Derek was kind of disappointed by (he would have love to see their face when they saw him and his grease-covered hands) but there was a little administration booth in the middle of the lobby. The middle-aged woman behind the desk eyed him warily when he walked into the lobby, but he ignored her and pulled out his phone to call Stiles.

 _”Derek!_ Stiles said. _”You have amazing timing, I just started lunch.”_

“I know, you always have lunch at 12:30,” Derek said, smiling at just hearing Stiles’ voice.

 _“Aw, boo,”_ Stiles cooed.

“Don’t call me that,” Derek said. “And come downstairs so we can have lunch.”

_“Downstairs…Derek are you here?”_

“Your lobby lady is looking at me like I strangled her puppy.”

 _“Helen is a bitch,”_ Stiles said dismissively. _“But yeah I’ll be down in a second!”_

Derek smiled softly down at his phone before putting it away, looking up just in time to see Helen blush and look away quickly, then glance over to the security guard stationed by the door. Derek rolled his eyes. Laura said it was his resting bitch face that made people think he was going to murder everyone. Stiles said his cheekbones of death made women and men question their lives and awaken their libidos. Helen looked a little constipated, like she was trying to decide which reaction to have.

Before she called the security guard over, though, Stiles came bursting out of the elevator, charging at Derek. Derek had a split second to prepare before Stiles was launching himself at him, trusting Derek to catch him. Derek could just barely see Helen’s mouth drop over Stiles’ shoulder before Stiles was kissing him, hands clasped around the back of Derek’s neck.

“Hi,” Stiles said, pulling back and grinning.

“Hi,” Derek answered. “So, do you have time to have lunch with me?”

“I will literally always have time for you,” Stiles said. “Seriously, 3:37 am and you have a spare five minutes, I will have time for you.”

-

“You’re evil,” Stiles said when he answered the door. Derek was dressed in his running clothes, a shit-eating grin on his face. Stiles, on the other hand, was still in his baggy sleep pants, his hair tousled from sleep. “Seriously, it’s 8:00 am. On a Saturday.”

“Perfect time for a run,” Derek said. “No one will be out.”

“Because they’re all smart enough to still be in bed,” Stiles said.

Derek just spun Stiles around by the shoulders, pushing him into the apartment, and said, “Go change.”

“Bossy,” Stiles grumbled.

“Go change and I’ll blow you on the trail.”

Stiles tripped over the edge of the living room rug running to his room.

They were running for a half hour before Derek stopped suddenly, yanking Stiles off the path and into a slightly secluded patch of trees. They could barely see the jogging path but if anyone happened to be running by, they’d definitely be heard, a fact that Stiles pointed out.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet then,” Derek said, dropping to his knees with a predatory grin. “I know how much you love that.”

Stiles sent Derek a dirty look that quickly turned to one of surprise as his shorts were tugged down to his thighs. The cool air hit Stiles where he was half hard, making him hiss.

“Derek,” he said, still slightly breathless from the run. “Derek, we’ve been running. I’m sweaty and not going to taste, er, good, oh god!”

Derek swallowed Stiles down, ignoring his protests. He hummed around Stiles, now totally hard, not caring at all about Stiles’ taste or smell. With werewolf senses, Stiles’ scent was simply stronger, the heady musk Stiles normally produced was amplified, as was the taste of his skin.

Stiles was making small, muffled mewling noises, the hand that wasn’t twisted in Derek’s hair was clapped over his own mouth, desperately trying to stem the flow of sounds. Derek hollowed his cheeks, laving the underside of Stiles’ cock with his tongue as he bobbed up and down. He’d been working on deepthroating and wasn’t quite there yet, but he could get down pretty far, only an inch or so left. He pulled back almost all the way, sucking on the soft head and running a hand up Stiles’ inner thigh. Ghosting over Stiles’ balls, he dragged his fingers over Stiles’ perineum, pressing that spot that made Stiles gasp. 

“Fuck Derek, your mouth,” Stiles said, voice ragged. He cupped Derek’s jaw, rubbing at his cheeks. “God you’re amazing, look so good like this.” Derek hummed again and moved his fingers to circle Stiles’ hole. Stiles cried out and bucked his hips forward, gagging Derek. “I’m sorry, shit, Derek, I’m sorry.” Derek pulled off, nuzzling at the base of Stiles’ dick. His lips were red and swollen.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” he said before running his tongue back up Stiles’ length. Swirling his tongue over the tip, he teased Stiles for a bit before sucking him down. He grabbed Stiles by the hips and pulled him forward, urging him deeper into the wet heat of Derek’s mouth. Stiles groaned.

“Derek are you sure?” 

Derek loved how wrecked Stiles sounded, could feel the tension in the other man’s body and knew he was close. He nodded, pulling Stiles to him again until he got with the program, feeding him dick into Derek’s mouth over and over.

After only a few minutes, his pace quickened, his snapping forward harder and faster until his body seized, breath stuttering as he came down Derek’s throat. Derek swallowed every drop, cleaning Stiles’ dick with his tongue until he was batted away.

Derek stood, pulling Stiles’ shorts up as he went. Stiles was leaning heavily against the tree, a dopey grin on his face. He pulled Derek to him for a filthy kiss, working a hand between them to wrap around Derek’s hard, leaking cock, something Derek hadn’t bothered to touch while going down on Stiles. He grinned when Derek moaned into his mouth, hips jerking forward into Stiles’ hand.

The friction was just this side of too much, so Stiles quickly licked his hand and reached down again, stroking and teasing the head in the way he knew Derek loved. Derek dropped his head to Stiles’ shoulder, breath already ragged.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek gasped, setting his teeth into Stiles’ shoulder. He shuddered, embarrassingly close to coming already. Stiles’ hand worked over him like magic, pulling whimpers and whines from Derek’s throat that he’d later deny.

This was perfect, Stiles was perfect. The pleasure was building in the back of his spine, tingling up through his whole body. He only had a few seconds of warning before he was coming in Stiles’ hand, dick pulsing. Nuzzling Stiles’ neck, he took a few moments to collect himself before pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck and pulling back to tuck himself away

Stiles wiped Derek’s come from his hand onto the grass at his feet as best he could, groaning when that just got blades of grass stuck to his hand.

“Eurgh,” Stiles said, wiping his hand on the leg of his shorts. “Glad I didn’t wear black, it’d be pretty damn impossible to hide jizz – mph!”

Stiles was cut off mid-sentence by Derek slapping a hand over his mouth, motioning for the other man to be quiet. Stiles raised his eyebrows and licked Derek’s palm, who just rolled his eyes. A few seconds later, they could both see two pairs of running shoes through the thick bushes and could hear the soft footballs and huffing breath and they jogged by. When he was sure they were gone, Derek removed his hand from Stiles’ mouth, rubbing his spit covered palm on Stiles’ shirt.

“Dude,” Stiles said, letting out a shaky laugh. “That would’ve been awkward. How did you even hear that? I barely heard them when they were five feet away!”

Derek stiffened for a second before forcing himself to relax and shrug, saying, “Good hearing.”

“No fucking kidding,” Stiles said.

Stiles yanked Derek back to the trail by his arm and they set off again, albeit at a somewhat shaky, post-orgasm pace. Stiles bounced down the path, energized from the back bowing orgasm, but Derek was more sedate.

Derek had come so close to revealing his big, furry secret, something he hadn’t shared with anyone since Kate. Logically, he knew Stiles would never betray him like Kate had. That wasn’t what worried him. It was that he was keeping something from Stiles and it wasn’t something small like hating Stiles’ chicken parmigiana (which he definitely didn’t), but it was a huge chunk of who he was. 

Effectively, he was holding half of himself back from Stiles, half of what drove his life. Stiles wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , understand the animalistic desires and instincts Derek carried. He was nearly silent the whole way back, the cold rock of unease in his gut growing heavier with every step.

-

Laura noticed, because of course Laura noticed, and cornered him in the bathroom a few days later.

“We need to talk,” Laura said easily, as if her brother wasn’t hastily yanking his pants up over his hips.

“Laura!”

“It’s about you and Stiles,” she continued, blithely ignoring Derek’s protests. “Is something wrong?”

“I have to pee and you won’t leave,” Derek gritted out between his teeth. He tried to push Laura out but she barely tilted on her feet. Damn alpha strength.

“What I think is, you’re about to sabotage yourself,” Laura said, voice still deceptively cheerful, but Derek could see the seriousness in her eyes and smell her worry. That alone made him sigh, accepting that he was going to have to listen to what she had to say.

“And why’s that?” Derek asked.

“Because you haven’t let yourself have nice things since the fire,” Laura said.

Derek stiffened. 

“Laura,” Derek said slowly.

“Shut up, baby brother,” she said, but there was no bite in her tone. She took his hand, squeezing it and sending love-calm-support down the pack bond. “It’s been twelve years. It’s time for you to stop blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. It was not!” Laura’s voice raised about Derek’s when he tried to disagree. “Tell me something that we both already know the answer to. Does being with Stiles make you happy?”

“Yes,” Derek said without hesitation. 

“And do you believe you deserve to be happy? Or has all your work with Dr. Cane backslid?”

Derek sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I believe I deserve to be happy,” he said quietly. Laura’s grip on his hand tightened. “It just feels…I feel guilty, I guess, that I’m moving on with life. I don’t want to disrespect them.”

Laura took Derek’s face in her hands, flashing her red eyes at him.

“Living a half-life of guilt and anger disrespects them more. Repeat after me. My family would be pissed if I weren’t happy.”

Derek snorted, but despite himself, said, “My family would be pissed if I weren’t happy.”

“Again.”

“My family would be pissed if I weren’t happy,” he said again, compelled by his alpha. Laura’s eyes faded back to their usual hazel and she smiled, patting his cheek before pulling her hands away from his face.

“Can I please pee now?” Derek asked, shifting his weight slightly.

“Fine,” Laura said dramatically, like Derek’s bladder was the biggest inconvenience ever, and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. Derek has a blissful ten seconds of quiet when Laura banged on the door, making Derek jump, accidentally getting piss on the toilet seat. “I know that’s not all that’s bothering you!” she yelled through the door.

“ _You’re_ bothering me!” he yelled right back. Laura just laughed, footsteps fading as she walked away. 

Stiles laughed for a full minute straight when Derek told him. 

“You and Laura get along too well,” Derek grumbled.

“Would you rather we didn’t?” Stiles asked. “She’d probably interrupt every time she tried to have sex, which I mean wouldn’t really make me stop unless she actually got the door open. I mean, that could just get awkward.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Derek said.

“Yep,” Stiles said easily. “She does actually like me, right? Because dude, I’ve spent more nights here that at home in the last couple months and if she actually hates me, wow I’ve seriously overstayed my welcome.”

“She does like you, calm down,” Derek reassured him. “You know Laura, do you really think she’d wait months after we started dating to tell you she didn’t like you?”

“Oh…yeah.”

-

Derek didn’t mean for it to take over his life, but once he got something on his mind, it was hard to force it out. The cold clench right under his sternum grew heavier and heavier. Some days with Stiles would be completely fine, amazing, really. But some days his wolf’s instincts would be a little stronger and Derek would go from being ridiculously happy to quiet and tense. Stiles would try to tease him out of it and Derek would put on a smile, force himself back into whatever they were talking about or doing, but he knew Stiles could tell.

Anxiety would start to radiate off of Stiles when Derek was in these slumps, which made Derek’s wolf whine, demanding to comfort its mate. Derek would pull Stiles into his arms, running his nails over Stiles’ scalp and murmuring how special he was to Derek. He’d press kisses behind his ear and on his neck until the sour tang of anxiety faded.

Laura dragged it out of Derek eventually, pestering and threatening and watching until she put it together. When she did, they were out shopping and she slapped him in the back of his head.

“Ow! Laura, what the hell?”

“That’s what you’ve been angsting over? Jesus, Derek! You need to tell him,” Laura said. “This moping is getting ridiculous.”

“I’m not moping,” Derek said, frowning at her over a round rack of clothing.

“You’re doing it right now!”

“This isn’t moping, this is annoyance at being dragged out for six straight hours of shopping,” Derek said.

“When the sales hit, you have to strike back, little bro,” Laura said, cheerfully ignoring her brother’s misery and tossing another pair of jeans onto the growing pile in Derek’s arms. He growled, which of course made absolutely no difference.

“Seriously though,” she continued, dropping her voice so the lady a few racks over didn’t hear, “as your alpha, I’m giving you permission to tell Stiles about us. Hell, I’ll give him the bite if he wants it.”

Derek reared back, eyebrows up and eyes so wide that Laura’s lips twitched, but she managed to keep the laugh in.

“You, what?” Derek asked. “The very idea of Stiles being pack pissed you off and now you want me to tell him? You never even would talk about expanding, you said you’d never give anyone the bite.” Whenever Derek had tentatively brought it up in the past, Laura had shut him down with her alpha snarl, saying they didn’t need anyone else. Laura’s gaze softened.

“Derek, he’s your mate. If it would make you guys happy, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” she said.

Derek grabbed Laura with his free hand and yanked her into a one armed hug, pressing his cheek against hers. She subtly rubbed her cheek against his, marking him as discretely as possible before pulling away. 

“He’s your mate, Derek. Something I – I can’t even imagine how that feels,” Laura said. “That makes him pack, and we protect pack.”

“If he wants to be,” Derek said.

Laura hit him in the face with a shirt to add to the pile in his arms.

“That’s why you should tell him, you dipstick,” Laura said. 

“If I do it now, he’s going to freak out and leave. We haven’t been together for that long and he might decide to just cut his losses and run,” Derek said. His chest constricted at the thought. He hadn’t let himself even think that and now that he said it out loud, he knew it was true. He would scare Stiles off, he’d want nothing to do with him.

“Okay, A. Four months is plenty of time to get attached to someone. B. Does the work ‘mate’ mean _anything_ to you? C. If you wait even longer, he’s going to be pissed that you’ve been keeping a secret like that for so long,” Laura said. She flicked her eyes over his shoulder and grinned. “And D., which is really just a point of interest, he’s right over there in bedding.”

Derek didn’t even get the chance to look before Laura grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him toward Stiles, who was arguing animatedly with a pretty redhead, gesturing wildly with the throw pillow in his hands. 

Derek blamed the perfume lady who’d sprayed him in the face with Armani or something for the fact that he hadn’t smelled Stiles when he was so close to him. He was embarrassed for not recognizing Stiles’ heartbeat though. That was something to work on.

“Stiles, you know you won’t win,” the redhead said. She somehow managed to sound bored, threatening, and annoyed all at once. Derek was suddenly dreading her and Laura meeting.

“I don’t care that they ‘brighten my eyes,’ no one is going to compare my eye color to throw pillows,” Stiles said, waving the green and yellow pillows for emphasis. “My apartment will look like the inside of a crayon box!”

The girl rolled her eyes and yanked the pillows from Stiles, tossing them into the cart that already had at least four other pillows in varying shades of blue and green. 

“Of course they’re not. The pillows are accents for your home. They’ll tie in with the throw, ottoman, rug, and mantelpiece, which will pull the whole room together,” she said. “We’ve gone over this.”

“Lydia,” Stiles whined and Derek suddenly knew who Stiles was with; the ‘strawberry blonde goddess of knowledge and beauty’ that Stiles had been in love with all through high school. Derek’s heart thudded painfully as his wolf growled, pacing in the presence of the perceived threat.

Before he had the chance to stop her, Laura had called out, “Hey!” to Stiles. He turned, grin lighting up his face as soon as he saw Derek. Derek’s wolf relaxed a bit at that.

Stiles stopped trying to pull the pillows from the cart and launched himself at Derek, latching onto his lips.

“Haven’t seen you in two days,” Stiles mumbled against his lips. “Not cool.” Derek smirked, kissing Stiles’ nose.

“We had opposite schedules, definitely not my fault,” Derek said.

“Fine,” Stiles muttered. “Oh! Derek, Laura, this is Lydia, a friend from high school. Lydia, that’s Derek and Laura, my boyfriend and his terrifying sister, which come to think of it, you two meeting might cause the world to implode in sheer, mass panic from both of your evil brains-“

“Lydia Martin,” Lydia said, cutting Stiles off mid-rant. She stuck her hand out to Derek, then Laura, her grip firmer than Derek had expected. There was something in her scent, a slight smell of ozone, that made Derek’s wolf uneasy and he forced himself not to snarl, a neutral face being all that he could manage. Though he was busy assessing Lydia, trying to convince himself that she wasn’t a threat, he still noticed the way Laura’s gaze raked down the other woman’s body before dragging up to meet her eyes.

“So, Lydia, what brings you to town?” Laura asked, her smile straddling the line between flirty and predatory. Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder, the picture of nonchalance, but her scent betrayed her interest.

“I’m taking a few days off from working on my PhD to see Stiles. I’ll be presenting in Europe on his birthday, so now is the perfect time,” Lydia said.

“You’re getting your PhD?” Laura asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m impressed. You’re what, 25?”

“24,” Lydia said with a smirk. “And it’s my third.”

“Third? Third _doctorate_?”

“Yeah, Lydia is literally a genius, by the way,” Stiles said fondly. Derek’s eye twitched. Beautiful and smart, great. He knew he wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t PhD smart. “Laura’s an artist and Derek works as a mechanic, part-time bartender, and teaches self-defense classes once in a while.”

Derek winced, not at all pleased with how he sounded compared to Lydia, but she cocked her head, eyes narrowing at him like she was seeing through Derek’s soul and into his very atoms. He was about to snap at her when she said, “Good. People always manage to undervalue trades and physical ability. White tower academics and snotty executives can look down their noses all they want, but if it comes down to it, none of them who have a clue what a six barrel carburetor is or have the strength to defend themselves when the moment comes.”

Derek just looked at her a little stunned. He’d been completely convinced that the petite girl was about to rip him a new asshole.

“Uh, thanks?” 

Lydia nodded and turned to question Laura about her influences.

“That’s as close to a compliment as you’ll get from her,” Stiles said, worming his way under Derek’s arm. Derek rolled his eyes but tightened his grip and kissed the top of Stiles’ head. “Sooo…since we haven’t seen each other in a few days, what do you say you and I get reacquainted tonight?”

“Reacquainted? Stiles, we talked on the phone yesterday,” Derek said. Stiles just smirked, prompting an inelegant snort from Derek.

“Exactly, it isn’t the same as having you inside me,” Stiles said. Derek choked on his own tongue, coughing over Stiles’ laughter.

“Jesus, Stiles, you can’t just say shit like that.”

“Totally can. Anyway, come over tonight?”

“What about your…guest?” Derek asked, jerking his head to indicate Lydia who was a few yards away in deep discussion with Laura. 

“Oh, she’s not staying with me. A couch isn’t dignified enough for Lydia Martin, and she almost bit my head off when I offered her my bed,” Stiles said. “She called it a depraved pit of semen and testosterone. She’s staying at the St. Regis.”

Derek preened a little, satisfied that Lydia knew of his claim on Stiles’ bed, then actually processed what Stiles said.

“Wait, what? The St. Regis is like $600 a night.”

“Not in a suite, honey,” Lydia said. She and Laura came back to the two others. “Closer to $1,100.” Both Hales’ mouths were hanging open, but Stiles looked completely unfazed. “Anyway, Stiles and I have a lunch reservation across town. I could call and change it if you two would like to join us?”

“No thanks, we actually have to get going,” Laura said. “It was nice to meet you, though.”

“You, too,” Lydia said, her eyes lingering on Laura before she turned on her four inch heel and started off in the other direction. Stiles hurriedly kissed Derek goodbye and chased after her. 

Derek watched the redhead purposefully stride away, heels clicking violently and he was completely unsure whether to like her or want to throw her through the storefront window.

Stiles turned around halfway across the store and yelled, “Tonight!” and gave a few pelvic thrusts before jogging away.

“That was aimed at him!” Laura said loudly to the curious onlookers. Derek groaned, covering his red face with his hands. “Hey, you’re the one who’s dating him, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Don’t remind me,” Derek grumbled. “Why’d you say no to lunch?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if you were going to try to kill Lydia,” Laura said. She yanked the clothes out of Derek’s arm and headed to the nearest fitting room.

“I wouldn’t kill her,” Derek argued.

“Maiming is probably frowned upon, too.”

-

It seemed to Derek that they day was crawling by just to spite him. There was an itch under his skin that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he’d tried. He’d gone for a run, refusing to stop until his lungs ached. The burn faded too quickly, so he went to the gym where he sometimes ran the self-defense classes and pushed himself so hard that even his werewolf healing couldn’t stop the ache. That’s when he’d finally gone home and showered, deeming it late enough to go to Stiles’.

Derek’s wolf was still restless from missing Stiles, and the presence of an outsider. The human part of Derek pushed that aside, reminding himself that Stiles was his. Lydia was just a friend, not a threat to his relationship. He wished he 100% believed that.

It was Lydia who answered Stiles’ front door when Derek knocked. She gave Derek a once over from head to toe and he felt a surge of gratitude to Laura for making him buy the jeans and black button down. He’d been annoyed at the time, especially when she said that they made his ass look great, but now that he was under Lydia’s scrutiny, he was grateful his sister had insisted. 

He refused to squirm and Lydia eventually stepped aside so he could enter, apparently deeming his appearance acceptable. She sat down primly in the living room’s nicest chair (a huge, squishy purple armchair with a worn seat) with her legs crossed.

“Stiles is still showering,” she said. “Which is perfect. It gives us enough time to chat. Sit.”

Derek debated for a second before stiffly lowering himself to the couch. 

“And what are we ‘chatting’ about?” Derek knew his voice was dripping his disdain but he could stop it even if he wanted to. Lydia just rolled her eyes.

“Stiles, obviously,” she said. “I’m going to be blunt because frankly, the social convention of small talk lost its appeal in high school.” Derek shrugged in acceptance, but Lydia didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Stiles is a very good friend of mine. One of the only two, actually, and I do not take that lightly. We both know he’s had trauma and pain in his life, but you make him genuinely happy. Happier than I’m used to seeing him.”

Derek smiled slightly at that.

“Good,” he said. “His happiness is the most important thing to me.”

“It had better be,” Lydia said, eyes hard. “I like you, Derek, I actually do, and I think you’re good for him. But if you fuck up, if you hurt him in any way, I will shove your entire body up your own ass and make you fuck yourself from the inside out.”

Derek eyebrows flew up. “I…what?”

Lydia huffed in annoyance and leaned forward. “Derek. One of my PhDs is in bioorganic chemistry. Trust me, there are things I could do to you that would make sure they’d never identify a body. We clear?”

Derek was very glad that Lydia wasn’t a wolf. “I’d expect nothing less,” he said.

Lydia nodded in satisfaction and sat back in her chair.

“Good,” she said. Her face instantly transformed from dangerous and cold to teasing and mischievous. “Don’t worry, I’m just staying long enough to say goodbye to Stiles, then I have a gallery opening to attend. You guys have all night.” She winked at Derek. 

Thankfully, it was only a few more minutes until Stiles emerged from the bathroom with a puff of steam and a towel around his waist. Lydia was immediately up and moving, kissing Stiles’ cheek before making her way to the door.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Stiles. I want to get out of here before you two start going at it like bonobos,” she said. She closed the door behind her before Stiles could finish yelling, “Damn straight!”

“Well,” Stiles said, crawling into Derek’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, one knee of either side of his hips. “Not really straight. Damn bi? That’s just ridiculous.” Derek snorted, running his hands up Stiles’ bare sides, tracing each familiar mole and freckle. 

“I like you in nothing but a towel,” he murmured, tracing the shell of Stiles’ ear with his teeth. Stiles shuddered when one of Derek’s large hands started toying with the edge of the towel.

“Sorry the shower took so long,” Stiles said, breathless from Derek’s ministrations. “But I have a surprise for you.”

Derek made an inquisitive sound but didn’t lift his mouth from where it was sucking and nipping an impressive mark on Stiles’ collarbone. Stiles took one of Derek’s hands and pulled it underneath the towel, guiding his fingers back to Stiles’ ass. There was slickness against Stiles’ rim and Derek tested it gently, groaning when two fingers slid in easily. The front of his pants were getting uncomfortably tight and the towel as doing nothing to hide Stiles’ erection.

“Stiles…”

“Had to prep myself for you,” Stiles said, gasping as Derek moved his fingers. “Needed you in me as fast as possible.”

Damn if that didn’t make Derek’s dick even harder. He nudged Stiles’ rim with a third finger and plunged it in, pushing deeper and deeper into that soft heat. Stiles was making the most delicious keening noises, shoving back against Derek’s hand and grinding onto his lap. Every few thrusts, Derek’s fingers would brush Stiles’ prostate, making more pre-come squirt onto the towel.

“I’m ready, Derek. I’m so, so ready. Come on, fuck me, please, please, I - ”

Derek crashed his lips into Stiles’, shutting him up with his mouth and tongue. But who was he to deny Stiles? He pulled his fingers out despite Stiles’ whines of protest and set his hands on his waist.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Stiles scrambled up from Derek’s lap and was halfway across the living room before Derek could even stand. Stiles smirked and let the towel drop to the floor, revealing his hard cock, tip wet and red. Derek’s mouth salivated and he followed Stiles’ sauntering ass into the bedroom, nearly tackling him onto the bed.

They were a mess of limbs and writhing bodies and god, Derek had needed this, needed Stiles’ mouth and hands and lithe body pulled against his. He rolled them so Derek was on his back, Stiles straddling him.

“Ride me,” Derek growled out. “I want to see you fucking yourself on my cock, taking it all in that tight little ass of yours.”

Stiles nodded fast, pupils already blown wide, and reached around to position Derek’s dick at his entrance. Stiles sank slowly, hissing until Derek’s head breached the tight ring of muscle. He stilled for a second, savoring in the feeling of Derek inside him. He’d prepped himself but Derek wasn’t small and his hole was clinging to Derek’s cock.

“Fuck.” Derek’s voice was absolutely wrecked, his only focus was on Stiles constricting around him, pulling him deeper. 

When Stiles recovered enough to move, he gave Derek no warning before raising his hips and dropping down. Hard. Derek’s gasp was lost under Stiles’ shout as he worked himself faster on Derek’s cock. The room was filled with grunts and moans and the obscene wet, squelching noise of Stiles fucking his swollen hole onto Derek.

Usually they were both pretty vocal in bed, more than happy to tell the other exactly what they wanted, but this time was different. It was all gasps and groans and animalistic noises. Stiles started whimpering when his muscles began to get tired, trembling above Derek.

Derek grabbed Stiles and pulled him to his chest, setting his feet against the mattress so he could pound into Stiles, making him cry out. The new angle was amazing, letting Derek hit Stiles’ prostate every single time, and rubbing his throbbing cock between their stomachs.

“Derek, gonna come, gonna, fuck,” Stile gasped, burying his face in Derek’s neck.

“Come on, Stiles. Be a good boy and come for me,” Derek growled in Stiles’ ear. Stiles did, screaming his release into Derek’s skin. Just a few thrusts later, Derek was coming in Stiles’ spasming hole. He bit down on the junction between Stiles’ neck and shoulder and stilled, letting his come fill Stiles.

Stiles was pliant and boneless in Derek’s arms. The only sign he was even alive was his quiet whine when Derek laved at the bite mark, soothing it with his tongue.

“Is this a possessive thing?” Stiles slurred, rolling until he was tucked into Derek’s side. “A jealousy thing?”

Derek nuzzled the side of Stiles’ head, his voice rumbling through Stiles’ body when he said, “Maybe.”

“Puppy,” Stiles mumbled, still fucked out and hazy. He didn’t seem to notice Derek tense at the pet name, thinking for a second it was a wolf reference, before realizing Stiles knew nothing about werewolves. It was just Stiles making a comment. “I don’t want Lydia. I haven’t in years. I just want you.” Derek was quiet, unsure what to say, and of course, Stiles being Stiles needed to fill the silence. “You believe me, don’t you? I don’t want you to doubt what I feel for you.”

“I believe you,” Derek said quietly. He was running his fingers absently through Stiles’ hair, something they both loved. “With-with everything that’s happened before…” Derek hesitated and Stiles squeezed him tighter, like he could hold Derek together all on his own. “I get paranoid, scared. Not that you’ll hurt me!” he said quickly when Stiles made a hurt noise. “It’s like…it’s, you’re too good to be true. I worry that someone’s going to come along and you’re going to realize that they’re so much better for you than I am. I can’t – I don’t want to lose you.”

“Derek.” Stiles pulled away and for one terrifying moment, Derek thought he’d scared Stiles off, but then he rolled until he was lying on top of Derek. He took Derek’s face in his hands, gently rubbing his thumbs over his cheekbones. “You’re not going to lose me. There’s no way you could. I am so, ridiculously, severely in love with you. I know it’s only been a few months and it’s probably way too soon and oh my god, please shut me up because I don’t want to freak you out and-”

“I love you, too,” Derek said, running his hands up Stiles’ back until he was clutching at Stiles’ shoulders. “I love you, so much.” Stiles beamed down at him.

“Oh thank god,” Stiles breathed out and kissed Derek so hard and fast that even he was dizzy. Derek flipped Stiles onto his back, all but attacking him, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. 

When Stiles came again later, he was screaming Derek’s name, repeating, “I love you” over and over.

After they’d settled again, something hit the wall of Stiles’ room. Derek was pretty sure it was Laura’s shoe, and a few seconds later she yelled, “Y’all nasty!”

It took Stiles five minutes to contain the hysterical giggles.

-

Stiles had a truly extraordinary trail of hickeys all over his body the next morning. He was cooking breakfast in nothing but a pair of jeans with Derek at the breakfast bar, admiring the dark marks against his boyfriend’s skin, when Lydia let herself in, not bothering to knock. She took one look at Stiles and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. There were bruises all up and down Stiles’ neck, a vague imprint of teeth on his shoulder, and a smattering of smaller marks over his back and chest.

Stiles flushed under her scrutiny but defiantly said, “What? Don’t judge me, I’ve seen the shit you had in high school.”

“Yeah, in _high school,”_ Lydia emphasized with an eye roll. She ignored Stiles’ offer of French toast, instead grabbing a yogurt from the fridge. She grabbed Stiles’ chin, tilting his head back and forth to get a better look. “I have concealer in my bag if you want to look less like a chew toy.”

“I’m good,” Stiles said with a shrug and a grin. “I kind of like it.” He winked at Derek before turning back to the stove. Derek smiled slightly, proud of his claim thrilled that Stiles was happy to show it off. He was calmer now. Today, Lydia was just a friend of Stiles’, that was all.

“Kinky, possessive fuckers,” Lydia muttered right when the front door opened. Laura walked in with a bowl of fruit salad. She winked at Lydia when she passed. Lydia merely smiled.

“Who’s kinky?” Laura asked.

“Your brother and this little pervert,” Lydia said, flicking Stiles’ ear.

“Seriously? Guys, has everyone forgotten how to knock? You knock when doors are closed!” Stiles said, waving his spatula for emphasis. “But whatever! Who needs personal space?”

“You should really keep your door locked,” Laura said. She sat down next to her brother and gave him a light punch in the arm. “Seriously, this is New York.”

“I’d prefer you not dead,” Derek added conversationally. 

“Stiles has never had very good self-preservation instincts,” Lydia said.

“Stiles is right here,” Stiles mumbled. He loaded up plates for Laura, Derek, and himself. “Here, you moochers.”

They lapsed into silence while they ate. Halfway through a piece of bacon, Derek felt eyes on him. He turned to see Lydia scrutinizing him.

“What?” he asked.

“Where are your marks?” she asked, eyes narrowing on his neck. “Stiles overshares enough for me to know he’s a biter.”

“Lydia,” Stiles hissed. Derek shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t notice the stiffness in his shoulders.

“I don’t bruise easily,” Derek said.

“It’s true,” Laura said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “He broke his arm when he was six and it barely even swelled up.”

It was technically true. He’d fallen out of a tree when Peter had somehow convinced him that young werewolves had the ability to fly. He’d healed before it got too gross. His mom had reamed Peter for that one.

“Not fair,” Stiles pouted, leaning over to kiss Derek on the nose. “It’s okay, I still love you.”

“I’d certainly hope so,” Derek said dryly.

Neither of them seemed to remember the other girls hadn’t heard that particular statement yet until Laura squealed, “Oh my god, you guys are so fucking adorable, I’m actually going to throw up.” Stiles blushed a little but looked exceedingly pleased with himself. Even Lydia was giving them a small smile.

“Shut up and eat your breakfast,” Stiles said, but the dopey grin was still plastered on his face.

A half hour later, Lydia stood up and clapped her hands together.

“All right Stiles, chop chop, get dressed. The MET has an exhibit on post-Roman Celtic art that I want to see.”

“And rip the museum a new asshole about all they got wrong?” Stiles asked.

“Obviously.”

“You’re into art history?” Derek asked, interest piqued.

“Oh damn it,” Stiles said throwing his hands up. “They’re never going to shut up now. I’m going to shower, go ahead and nerd out.” 

Lydia ignored him completely, answering Derek as if Stiles hadn’t spoken. “Yes. A side project when working on my astrophysics doctorate. I started with ancient Africa and moved through the world up to colonial times in North America. It gets a little boring then,” Lydia answered. “Are you interested?”

“Jesus,” Laura muttered. “I’m going home.” Derek and Lydia ignored her, too.

“Yeah, mainly Egyptian, Greek, and Roman, mostly from early dynastic through the late period for Egypt, Hellenistic for Greek, and the Greco-Roman era,” Derek said.

“Hmm,” Lydia said. Derek had the feeling that she was dissecting him and forces himself to sit up straighter. He was a werewolf, damn it, he refused to be intimidated by a 5’3” redhead in a flowered skirt.

“How’d you get into art history?” Lydia asked.

“Laura. When she started painting, I tried to learn as much as I could,” Derek said. It was no big deal, he’d wanted to share that connection with his sister, but Lydia was looking at him like he’d said something interesting.

They talked about art history until Stiles was out of the shower and dressed. Stiles raised his eyebrows when Lydia said Derek and Laura had an invitation to come with them.

“Is that a bad thing?” Derek asked, frowning at Stiles’ expression.

“No, it’s great! Lydia’s not very good at sharing her Stiles time,” he said.

“He’s competent at art history. He’ll probably be more useful than you,” Lydia said.

Lydia stood, a universal sign for everyone to follow, so Stiles leaned over the back of the couch to bang on the wall that separated his apartment from the Hales’.

“Come on, Laura, we’re going to a museum!” Stiles yelled through the wall.

There was silence for a few seconds before there was an answering bang on the wall and a shout of, “Fine, you demanding little shit!” 

-

As Stiles predicted, Lydia tore the museum curator apart over all of the inaccuracies, leaving the stunned man blinking in her wake. She and Derek ended up in the Egyptian section, having a friendly argument about tombs. Laura and Stiles were dragging behind, snapchatting pictures of the pieces with sassy captions. 

Stiles almost swallowed his tongue when he opened one that showed a painting of a man cowering next to a feast-covered table, another man standing above him with a raised arm. Across the middle was **You can’t sit with us!**

“Mean Girls? I’m so proud!” Stiles said when he finally could stop laughing. “Incoming.”

Laura checked her phone only to see a picture of Derek’s ass captioned with **A true work out art**.

“Gross!” Laura punched Stiles in the arm. Derek rolled his eyes at them, moving away to follow Lydia to the next room.

Now that her protective threats were out of the way, Lydia was actually pretty good company, much to Derek’s surprise. They spent hours in the museum debating good-naturedly about everything from artistic style to the attractiveness of 1600s attire. It took them over an hour to realize they’d lost Stiles and Laura, then another hour to care enough to look for them. Derek and Lydia eventually found them eating ice cream on the front steps of the museum.

“They emerge!” Stiles said dramatically. “I was starting to worry you’d traded me in for a strawberry blonde model.”

“Never,” Derek said, leaning over to kiss Stiles on the noise. The blush tinging his boyfriend’s cheeks made Derek smile.

All in all, the day actually went pretty well. After the museum, they’d gotten lunch at an outrageously expensive restaurant, at Lydia’s insistence. She refused to let them pay, going as far as to threaten bodily harm. Stiles said, “You might as well let her. I stopped fighting it when she replaced all my shoes because she thought I looked like a hobo.”

“You did,” she said.

Derek should have known it was too good to last. Laura and Lydia were walking in front of Derek and Stiles through the subway station, cutting through the crowds to get to the right platform when Derek first smelled it. His eyes searched through the dozens of people around them until they settled on Laura. She was tensed, head turned slightly to the side, scenting the air.

“Hey,” Stiles said, nudging Derek in the ribs. “You just went all rigid, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Derek said, forcing his body to relax under Stiles’ touch. “Just stepped wrong.” 

Stiles frowned, eyes narrowed. “Sure,” he said, but Derek’s eyes were trained on Laura. He tugged Stiles closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. He wasn’t sure what he’d smelled, but he was reasonably sure it was another werewolf. Occasionally, an omega would seek them out automatically drawn to Laura as an alpha. She always sent them on their way, saying it was just her and Derek.

Derek steered Stiles to Laura and Lydia as firmly as he could without arousing suspicion, but Stiles wasn’t stupid and Derek could tell he knew something was wrong. Laura was waiting by Lydia, her hand resting on the small of the redhead’s back. Lydia seemed relaxed and blithely unaware of the Hales’ tension, but her eyes were sharp and glittering.

“What’s going on?” Stiles hissed.

“Nothing,” Derek answered immediately, trying to pull Stiles into the subway car.

“Nothing, my ass,” Stiles said, planting his feet, making it impossible to move him unless Derek yanked him or threw him over his shoulder. And honestly, he was sorely tempted.

“Stiles, I’ll explain later, just please let’s go home first,” Laura said through gritted teeth, obviously fighting the urge to flash alpha eyes. Derek completely understood.

Whether it was Laura’s ‘please’ (a rare event) or Derek’s convulsing hand around Stiles’ waist, Stiles nodded and let Derek pull him after Laura and Lydia into the subway car. The Hales pulled them into the far end against the wall so they had a view of all the entrances and exits.

The subway doors closed right when Derek got a strong whiff of the scent. A man sitting a few rows down stiffened and turned toward them. Laura stepped in front of the others, letting out a sub vocal growl that only Derek and the wolf could hear. The other wolf shuddered and looked down when Laura’s eyes flashed red.

“I mean no harm, Alpha. Just going home,” he whispered so only wolf hearing could detect his words.

“Good,” Laura said, equally quiet.

It wasn’t that they never ran into other wolves; considering how big New York was, it would actually be stranger if they didn’t, but this one didn’t smell like any of the packs in the area and due to them needing to seek permission to settle in the New York area, they were intimately familiar with the other packs’ scents. So either he really was just a wolf trying to get home and ended up a little farther away than normal, or…or. Derek and Laura learned paranoia early on and to always be aware of the ‘or’ possibility. And now, with a human pack member…

The man kept his eyes down until he got off a few stops later and only then did the Hales relax. Stiles kept eyeing them suspiciously, but kept up with the constant conversation with Lydia. 

After they parted ways with Lydia, Stiles waited until they were back in the Hales’ apartment to whirl on Derek and demand, “What the hell was - ” His words were cut off when Derek yanked Stiles to him, one hand splaying possessively over his back, the other clutching at the nape of his neck. “-that?”

There was a second of confusion before Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, letting his boyfriend hold him.

“Dude, you’re kinda freaking me out, what’s going on?” Stiles asked. Derek pulled back to look at Stiles, those amber eyes full of confusion and worry. Derek opened his mouth, to say what, he wasn’t sure, but Laura beat him to it.

“I thought I saw someone we used to know,” Laura lied smoothly. “He was…he wasn’t the nicest guy.” She even managed a small but convincing lip quiver and wide, wet eyes. God bless Laura.

Derek could see Stiles’ natural curiosity itching to burst out, but the caring instinct won. “Are you guys okay? What do you need?”

Derek shook his head, slowly releasing Stiles from his arms. He kept his hand, though. 

“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, rubbing his thumb over the pulse in Stiles’ wrist. “It was just the shock.”

Stiles wanted to question more, Derek could see it in the narrowing of his eyes and the twitching of his hands, but he just sighed and nudged Derek toward the couch.

“You guys sit, I’m gonna make popcorn, Stilinski’s famous hot chocolate, then we’ll get in a cuddle puddle and marathon Disney,” Stiles said and turned to walk to the kitchen without waiting for a reply.

Derek didn’t think that sounded half bad and sat on the couch. Laura collapsed next to him, flinging an arm over her eyes.

“Alpha instincts going crazy over someone else taking care of the pack?” Derek asked quietly. Derek glanced behind them, into the kitchen where Stiles was clanging around.

“No,” she said quietly. “It’s…it’s like you said, Stiles is pack and pack takes care of pack.”

“Look at you, growing up,” Derek said, elbowing Laura gently.

“Shut up,” Laura said, shoving him back, not nearly as gently. 

They listened quietly to Stiles moving around, occasionally dropping something and cursing. Derek didn’t realize he was smiling fondly until he saw Laura staring at him, a soft look on her face.

“You need to tell him,” Laura said quietly, so Stiles wouldn’t hear.

“I know,” Derek said, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt a lot older than 28, like running into the other wolf had taken years off his life. It wasn’t even a violent encounter, but Derek had been terrified for Stiles. He’d known he couldn’t let his wolf out, not in such a crowded space, and Stiles wouldn’t have understood. He’d have been horrified, he’d have run or gotten hurt and Derek would have lost him. The smart thing to do would be to let Stiles go, to keep him away from the supernatural all together. His wolf howled in pain at the thought, desperate to protect his mate. There was a tightness in his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs and crushing his heart.

But Derek couldn’t do it. He was letting himself be selfish for once. He thought of Laura’s words, so similar to Stiles’, “You deserve nice things.” He snorted. No, he wasn’t letting Stiles go, he was going to keep him safe.

“Hey, look, you managed to rein in your self-sacrificing bullshit!” Laura cooed at him, an annoyingly knowing look on her face.

“Shut up,” Derek said, pushing Laura away by the shoulder. Before he noticed, they were wrestling like they hadn’t since they were kids; all playful growls and violent shoving. Derek missed her not have alpha strength, back when he could occasionally pin her without her throwing him off in a half second.

“Kids,” Stiles said, laughing. Derek looked around Laura’s arm, which had him in a headlock, to see Stiles with his hands on his hips, trying to look stern but failing miserably. He stepped around the coffee table, which Derek noticed now had a tray with three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and stood in front of the couch with a mock scowl. He only could keep it up for a few seconds before leaping on top of them with a shrill battle cry.

They were a jumble of elbows and limbs and if it were anyone else, Derek would take extreme displeasure in being kicked in the face, but this was different. This was pack bonding. Laura and Derek were careful not to use too much strength on Stiles but that didn’t mean they went easy on him by any means. Derek attacked Stiles’ ribs where he knew he was ticklish, making Stiles yowl and flail out of his grip, headbutting Laura in the process. She kicked Derek in the shin in retaliation.

“Ow! He’s the one who headbutted you in the nose!”

“Your fault,” Laura said, reaching around Stiles to slap Derek’s arm.

“Okay, truce! Uncle! Parlay!” Stiles gasped between them. He shoved a hand in both of their chests in an attempt to push them away from each other. Of course, neither werewolf budged, and Stiles yanked his hands back with a yelp when he accidentally got a handful of Laura’s breast.

Laura laughed and relaxed back onto her end of the couch, grabbing a mug of hot chocolate and curling her legs under her. Derek relaxed on his end, too, satisfied that Laura wasn’t about to launch another attack. Stiles called a ceasefire and put on 101 Dalmatians.

This felt really good. Stiles smelled of nothing but caring and contentment all through the night. When they’d all finished their hot chocolate (Stiles had been right, it was amazing. And Derek wasn’t even a sweets kind of guy), Stiles huddled down between Derek and Laura, eyes on the screen. The couch wasn’t huge, so he was pressed into the sides of both Hales, just like the rest of their movie nights.

Sometime between the Little Mermaid and Hercules (“Hades is my god, all right?”), Stiles ended up cuddled between them, Derek wrapped around his side with Laura leaning her head against his shoulder, her nose nearly in his neck. She had an arm around his waist so tight that it was brushing Derek’s, but he didn’t mind. Wolves were extremely tactile, and so was Stiles, so they were a big pile of comfort and some not so subtle scent marking, not that Derek thought Stiles would get what it meant. Derek was nearly boneless with relaxation floating in the scent of homepacksafety.

Until halfway through Mulan, somewhere around 1:00 am, Stiles was drifting closer and closer to sleep. He was nearly sprawled on Derek, Laura a warm mass at his back with her face buried between his shoulder blades.

“’S nice,” Stiles mumbled sleepily. “You’re good at cuddle puddles. You’re like little wolf puppies.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Derek jerked under Stiles, hands spasming on his arm and the back of his neck. Laura was a little more subtle, only tensing against Stiles’ back but it was enough. Stiles sat up, looking between them in confusion. It took a few seconds but Derek could see the comprehension dawn on Stiles’ face. Derek closed his eyes, waiting for the fear and violence. He was only half right.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you guys are werewolves?!” Stiles yelled and punched Derek in the shoulder. Which, what?

“Uh.” Derek made eye contact with Laura over Stiles’ shoulder and she looked just as confused and shocked as he was. But Stiles wasn’t done yet. He rounded on Laura and punched her in the arm, too. Hard. 

“This makes so much sense! Subway, sticking you face in my neck, the come - _comfortable_ way you, uh, smell me…” Derek reached for Stiles’ aching hand, but he jerked it away. “Nuh uh, you have some explaining to do, fuzz ball. Unless you’re doing the pain killing, wolfy mumbo jumbo because in that case, hell yeah.” Derek, apparently still dumbstruck, just took Stiles’ outstretched hand, black creeping up his veins. Stiles sighed. “That will never not be cool.”

“You know about werewolves?” Derek asked, finally recovered enough to ask dumb questions.

“Well, duh!” Stiles said, waving his arms between Derek and Laura. “The question is why you didn’t tell me?”

“HOW do you know about werewolves?” Laura asked.

“You answer mine and I’ll answer yours,” Stiles said. The stubborn jut of his lip made it clear that he wasn’t backing down on this.

“Derek,” Laura said.

“I was trying to figure out a way to tell you that wouldn’t involve you running in terror or burning my home down. I didn’t expect you to already know.”

“Burn your…oh. Oh, the fire, I, shit,” Stiles said, suddenly significantly more subdued than he was before. He squeezed Derek’s hand in his, rubbing gentle circles over his knuckles. “I’m sorry, I would never hurt you, either of you.”

Derek gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand back. “I know.”

“Not that this isn’t touching,” Laura interrupted, “but how the hell do you know about werewolves?”

“Oh! My best friend is one,” Stiles said.

Derek and Laura looked at him blankly until Derek asked, “Your best friend from Beacon Hills. Is a werewolf.”

“Yep,” Stiles said.

“Has another pack moved into Beacon Hills?” Laura asked. Her eyes were tinged red. They hadn’t been to Beacon Hills in years, not since their uncle Peter died in his sleep and they’d buried him next to the rest of their family, but they both still felt the pull. Beacon Hills was, and always would be, Hale territory. But Stiles was shaking his head.

“No, as far as we can tell there’s no one else,” Stiles said.

Derek frowned. “Was he born a wolf?”

“So you can be born a werewolf? I knew it! Are you guys? Oh my god, I have like a forty page list of questions you can answer!”

“Stiles,” Derek said through gritted teeth. Stiles huffed out a breath. 

“What, I’ll answer your questions but you won’t answer mine?”

“We will, please Stiles, just tell us what happened,” Laura said. “It’s important.”

Maybe it was her tone, or the fact that Laura never really says please, but Stiles visibly deflated and nodded with a sigh.

“Scott was bitten by a crazy alpha. That’s true, right? Only alphas can turn people?”

“Yeah,” Laura said. “So he didn’t ask for it?”

“What? Hell no. We were cutting through the woods after lacrosse practice and something just flew from a bush, knocked us over, bit Scott and ran away,” Stiles said.

“A rogue alpha,” Derek murmured. “And they didn’t stick around, try to pull Scott into a pack?”

“Nuh uh. Some drifter’s body was found a few days later with aconite in his system. So, yeah,” Stiles said. “I never got a straight answer from Chris Argent about whether it was…” Stiles trailed off when both siblings visibly flinched. “What?”

“Argent?” Derek growled.

“Yeah…they’re hunters,” Stiles said slowly. “But they have a code, something like, ‘We hunt – “

“Those who hunt us’,” Derek said, voice done deep with a growl. “Except when his sister decided to burn a family alive.” 

“What? She- oh god, Derek…” Derek could see the pieces click into place from what little Derek had already told him; the girl who’d used him, the grudge against his family. Stiles was for once at a loss for words, looking like he wanted to reach out and comfort Derek, but couldn’t tell if he would be welcome. His hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a few seconds before Derek grasped it tightly and pulled it into his lap.

“Stiles,” Laura said quietly. “If he doesn’t have an alpha, how did he learn control?”

“I threw lacrosse balls at him.”

“You-what?”

“We tied his arms behind his back, stuck a heartrate monitor on him, and I threw lacrosse balls at him. And got him beat up by a bunch of douches, but that was half because he made out with Lydia. I chained him to a radiator with a dog food bowl on the full moon but he broke out and ran to Allison’s house.”

Derek was making increasingly distressed noises the more Stiles talked. Stiles just squeezed his hand and said, “Of course, the lovesick idiot just went right to Allison’s house and just watched her from the roof like a freakin’ creeper.”

“Allison?” Derek asked.

“Allison Argent, his wife,” Derek said.

“He’s married to an Argent?!” Derek burst out. “Is he insane?”

“No, and neither is Allison. She has never hunted okay?”

“Putting a pin in that –“ Laura said, only to be cut off by Derek.

“You threw lacrosse balls at a newly turned werewolf that didn’t have control?” Derek asked, letting a growl seep into his voice. “Are you out of your mind? Do you want to get killed?”

“In my defense! I’d just figured out what he was and we figured anger and pain had something to do with it. Anyway, he found an anchor, everything’s been gravy for years.”

Derek ran his free hand over his face with a groan. “Are there any others in Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah. Isaac ran away from his abusive dad in high school and Boyd moved with his family a few years ago. It’s not a pack exactly, not really. They’re kind flying by the seats of their pants. Do you think one of you could maybe talk to them? It’d be super helpful if they could learn about wolves from actual wolves instead of stuff passed down from hunters, which to be honest is probably a steaming pile of –“

“I’d be happy to,” Laura said. “The bite is a gift, and no one should have to learn about it all on their own. They deserve to know the culture and tradition.”

Stiles face lit up in a smile, like he’d doubted Laura and Derek actually would. “Okay, you got your answers, now I get mine.”

Derek and Laura spent the next three hours answering every question Stiles threw at them, from the mundane questions about pack and social structures, to the straight up bizarre (“No Stiles we aren’t born as puppies, what the hell?”). Stiles stared at them with rapt attention, soaking up every word of what Derek and Laura considered to be inherent knowledge, like the sun sets in the west. Derek had never seen Stiles so still. He briefly hesitated about freely giving so much information to a human, especially one that had ties, however tenuously, to hunters, but his wolf recognized Stiles as mate and safety. Pack, if he accepted it.

“So,” Stiles said, twisting and untwisting his fingers in his lap. “Are plain old humans ever a part of packs?”

Derek’s eyes flicked to Laura briefly before he looked back at Stiles. “Yes, there are human pack members. We had human siblings and cousins. They’re an important part of the pack. They’re a link to humanity. They keep us grounded.”

Stiles nodded, gnawing at his lip. “Good, that’s good.”

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, cupping his jaw. Laura cleared her voice and not-so-subtly slid off the couch and went to her room. Of course, she would still be able to hear everything, but Derek appreciated the illusion of privacy. “What is it?”

“Scott and Allison talked about, um, mates,” Stiles said, flushing slightly.

Derek was glad Stiles wasn’t a wolf and couldn’t hear how Derek’s heartbeat jumped. “Yeah?” Derek prodded.

“They weren’t sure on some things like if her dad said some stuff just to scare them or if some things are normal and I’m just kind wondering…” Stiles finished, running out of steam toward the end.

Derek pulled Stiles in, kissing him softly. “What’s your question?” he mumbled against Stiles’ lips. He pulled back just enough to look Stiles in the eye, keeping a warm hand on the back of his neck.

“Is- is it true that werewolves mate for life? I always wondered if that was something Chris made up to scare Allison away from Scott when they were in high school.”

“It’s true,” Derek said. His thumb was running absentminded circles on Stiles’ neck. “When a werewolf makes a mate bond…it’s intense, that person, their mate, they’ll be it for each other. I don’t know how to explain it other than how my mother explained it to me.

“It’ll make you a little stronger, and you’ll feel more grounded with a mate, like a thousand anchors. You can feel each other, similar to a pack bond but just for each other. You can pick each other’s heartbeats out of thousands. It’s just you two together, amplified and aided with a mating bond.” Derek’s wolf was prowling excitedly at giving Stiles this information, itching to claim.

“And that’s with a mating bite, right?”

Derek nodded. “Traditionally, on the neck or wrist, but some started doing it over the heart so hunters wouldn’t recognize the scar.” Stiles nodded but his heart was still beating fast. Derek didn’t want to push him too hard, so he waited a few moments before saying, “Stiles, you can ask me anything, you know that.”

Stiles seemed to steel himself before asking timidly, completely un-Stiles-like, “I know Scott did but he’s not really a fountain of werewolf knowledge, but what if a wolf takes a human mate? Does that, do they, does that ever happen?”

Derek’s hand tightened on the back of Stiles’ neck before he cupped his face. “We take human mates. We love and cherish them the same as we would if they were wolves.”

Some of the tension in Stiles’ body released and he breathed a relieved sigh. But Derek could tell Stiles was working up to something, so he just waited and continued to stroke Stiles’ cheek with his thumb. It was probably the longest Derek had ever heard a conscious Stiles go without talking.

He finally asked, “Mates are kind of like getting werewolf married, right? Mating for life and all.” Derek nodded. “How do you know when you’ve found them? Scott said he couldn’t explain it, he said he just knew.”

“He’s right, in a way. He probably just isn’t sure because he doesn’t know as much about being a werewolf.” Derek’s voice dropped quieter when he said, “I thought that’s what I had with Kate, but that was just teenage lust. The real thing is so much more. The scent of them, their presence, it’s soothing and exciting all at once. The need to scent and protect, touch, everything. That person becomes everything.”

“That sounds like Scott and Allison,” Stiles said. Derek still wanted to cringe at a werewolf being mated to a hunter, but he bit his tongue. Stiles’ heartbeat was slamming in his chest so hard that Derek was a bit worried. “So…have you met yours?”

Derek nodded. “Yes.” His heart rate was starting to match Stiles’.

“I don’t want to sound presumptuous or anything but, is that me?” Stiles couldn’t meet Derek’s eyes when he asked, instead staring somewhere around Derek’s left ear. The thick scent of doubt and anxiety assaulted Derek’s senses, making him wrinkle his nose. He pulled Stiles to him and kissed him, chaste but sweet.

“It’s you,” Derek breathed, leaning forward. He rested his forehead against Stiles’. “Stiles, of course it’s you. You’re smart, loud, beautiful, infuriating, and so, so caring. I love you so much. I know this is a lot and I don’t want you to make a decision now, I’m not even ready now. I just need you to know that I want a future with you.”

“Wow, Derek,” Stiles said, voice awed. “Of course that’s what I want! Fuck, Derek I see a house surrounded by trees and kids running around with your ridiculous eyes and full moon barbeques. Jesus, Derek, I want everything with you.”

This time when Derek reeled Stiles in for a kiss, it wasn’t chaste; it was delving tongues, nipping and gasps, the kind of kiss that was made of pure passion that made you walk away with swollen lips and a dopey look on your face. That’s exactly how Stiles looked when Derek pulled back to look at his face, blissful and nearly fucked out.

“God, Stiles, you can’t just say things like that,” Derek groaned, sounding just as wrecked as Stiles. With a wicked grin, Stiles climbed into Derek’s lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck. The front of his jeans were already uncomfortably tight, and the added pressure of Stiles’ half hard dick pressing against his own was the absolute best kind of torture.

“I’m not ready for all that yet, either,” Stiles mumbled against Derek’s lips between kisses. “But I will be.”

Derek let out a rumbling noise that later he’d swear up and down wasn’t a purr, and attached himself to the junction where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder. Derek grinned when Stiles swallowed hard, his skin salty and soft beneath Derek’s tongue.

“I want, Derek, mark me,” Stiles gasped out. Derek went very still, keeping a tight grip on Stiles’ hips. Stiles just leaned in closer until his lips were brushing Derek’s ear. “Mark me up. Show everyone I’m yours. Make sure they see it and smell it and never forget, and any other wolf that walks by me on the street knows I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Derek growled low and threw Stiles down to the couch, covering his body a second later with his own. His wolf was howling in victory when Derek latched onto Stiles’ neck, sucking and biting another mark that would bruise nice and dark. He’d had the rein in so many of his instincts from Stiles for so long, but here he was, moaning obscenely beneath him, begging for the wolf side of Derek.

Opening Stiles up was usually one of Derek’s favorite things to do, loving the squelching noises as he thrust his fingers in and out of Stiles’ hole, his knuckles being squeezed by the rim, as if Stiles’ ass wanted to keep Derek inside. Tonight though, his patience was nonexistent. He was still careful, claws never making an appearance, but way quicker than normal. Stiles was making beautiful, helpless noises high in his throat that made it clear that he was completely on board with what Derek was doing.

“Derek, I’m ready. Just, please, Der, need you,” Stiles babbled, clutching at Derek’s shoulder. He nosed at Derek’s collarbone, scenting him, Derek realized. He yanked Stiles arms up, pinning his wrists over his head.

Derek lined himself up and slid in slowly, the clench of Stiles’ hole quickly giving way for him was so, so good, and it took all he had not to slam into the warm, waiting body.

“Don’t hold back,” Stiles hissed when Derek bottomed out. “I want all of you. Give me the wolf.”

“Christ,” Derek groaned. He lost himself in the tightness of Stiles around him, slamming into him over and over. Usually they tried to make things last until they were both weak and breathless and had teased each other to within an inch of their sanity, but this time was all desperation.

The animal was at the surface, frantically rutting into Stiles with the single-minded goal of claiming, taking Stiles’ submission and marking him on the inside and out. In the back of his mind, Derek knew it wasn’t a full mating claim, and it wouldn’t be until he knotted Stiles and gave him the bonding bite. But it was still so good, bursts of pleasure tingling up his spine.

Stiles’ face was screwed up in ecstasy, his eyes wide and mouth open and slack. If it felt this good just to let the wolf out, Derek couldn’t imagine how actually mating Stiles would be.

Apparently he’s said some of that aloud because Stiles’ cock twitched against his stomach and he said, “Yeah, Der, you’ll fill me up so good, breed me ‘til I swell, stuff me full of your come.” Stiles gasped as Derek slammed in harder, eyes glowing at Stiles’ words. “Please, please Derek. All I want is you, no one else, just my mate. Please, need you, need your come. C’mon, make me yours.”

Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck, whining as his hips started to lose their rhythm. Stiles worked a hand between them to start jacking his cock, making him buck up ever further into Derek’s thrusts. He threw his head to the side, presenting his long, pale neck.

“Stiles,” Derek gasped around a mouthful of fang and came, spilling his release into Stiles. He kept blindly thrusting, hoping to hit Stiles’ prostate and only stopping when he felt Stiles shoot hot and wet between them.

Derek filed away the way Stiles shivered when Derek whispered, “Good boy,” in his ear, happy to use that information for later, and settled himself half draped over Stiles, half on the couch, to bask in the afterglow. 

He stayed inside of Stiles long after they both came down from their orgasms, something they both loved. Derek knew it was probably some werewolf biology thing designed to make it more likely for a breeding to take but he didn’t care; being inside Stiles’ warm hole, either tight and slick or loose and sloppy with his come, was one of the best parts of his day. He wasn’t sure why Stiles loved it so much. When he’d asked, Stiles had had a hard time explaining beyond, “I like you inside me. It feels wrong to be so empty.”

The Hale living room was saturated in the scent of sex and come and sweat, the air heavy with it. Derek idly wondered how long it would take to fade, as much as he didn’t want it to, as he ran his hand up and down Stiles’ back. Laura was going to be so pissed. Speaking of…

Laura’s bedroom door banged open, slamming against the hallway wall, and she stomped into the living room. Derek had just enough time to yank the afghan off the back of the couch to cover Stiles and himself before she was standing in front of them, hands on her hips. If she were a cartoon, she’d have a storm cloud over her head.

“Really, guys? Really? Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, it’s going to smell like jizz for weeks!” Laura said. “That couch is never going to be the same.”

“Try breathing through your mouth?” Stiles suggested cheekily. 

“Then I can almost taste it, you smug little shit!” Laura yelled. She grabbed her purse from the foot of the couch (so that’s what Derek’s foot had been hitting [“Fucking gross.”]) and all but ran to the front door.

“Where are you going?” Derek asked.

“To buy out the store’s supply of Febreeze. I swear to god, if you guys aren’t dressed by the time I’m back, I’ll dip you both in bleach.” She slammed the door behind her when she left and Derek could hear her muttering all the way down the hall.

“Do we have to get up?” Stiles whined, burrowing deeper into Derek’s side. 

Derek chuckled. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Stiles’ voice was slightly muffled due to his mouth being pressed against Derek’s skin. “Was that okay? The whole, er, breeding thing? I know it’s something we’ve never talked about, but it’s a bit of a kink of mine and I kinda assumed…sorry. Oh god, you don’t have magic werewolf jizz that’ll actually knock me up, right?”

Derek snorted against the top of Stiles’ head. “No, Stiles, I can’t get you pregnant. And it’s okay, it happens to be a kink that we have that in common. I like that, too. A lot.”

Stiles slumped in relief in Derek’s arms. “Good. I didn’t know if I was accidentally speciest or whatever.”

“You’re not.”

“Mmm.” Stiles cuddled deeper, whining when Derek pulled away. “Nooo, cuddle sleeping.”

“Later,” Derek said, kissing Stiles’ forehead and standing.

“It’s 4:30 am, how much later is there left?” Stiles grumbled. He moved to stand, only to be distracted by Derek’s ass, back, and strong, thick thighs. Derek shot him a smug smirk and bent over to pull his jeans back on. A hint of arousal from Stiles tinged the air.

“I can smell that,” Derek said. “Come on, we just need to open some windows and clean off the couch as much as we can, then we can go to sleep.”

Stiles mumbled about delicate were wolf sensibilities but he complied and helped Derek throw the blanket in the washing machine and do what they could for what Stiles called the ‘jizzy couch’.

“I’m in love with an idiot,” Derek sighed when they settled down in his bed.

“It’s the love part that matters,” Stiles said blithely, snuggling into Derek’s chest. They were lying in the dark for around fifteen minutes, the sounds of early morning New York drifting through the open windows when Stiles said, “Okay, I do have one more werewolf question.”

“Go for it.”

“So does all this,” he asked, waving his hand in the air between them, “you recognizing me as your mate and closeness with you and Laura and all, does that mean I could ever be, er, pack?”

Derek stroked Stiles’ side in a slow, calming motion and answered, “That isn’t what makes someone pack, they need to be recognized and accepted by the alpha and the rest of the pack before they are officially a part of it.” Derek rubbed his cheek against the top of Stiles’ head. “Laura and I already did that, mostly without even noticing it. You’re pack, if you want to be.”

Stiles nodded into Derek’s neck, slathering it even more in his scent. “I really want,” he said, hugging Derek around the torso. 

Derek grinned into Stiles’ hair. He’d been so focused on the possibility of losing Stiles because of being a werewolf that he hadn’t even thought about Stiles officially becoming pack. Turns out, it felt really fucking good. He drifted to sleep, curled together with Stiles, his pack member, his mate, and actually managed to let himself be happy.

-

Derek woke up the next morning to Stiles burrowed halfway under his body, wrapped in the blankets like a burrito. His body was used to waking up early for work or a run, but they’d only been asleep for four and a half hours, so Derek said fuck it. He was exhausted from last night’s revelations and if he was definitely feeling it, he knew Stiles would be worse. He debated getting up and closing the windows to cut off the cool autumn air, but laziness won out and he wrapped himself tighter around Stiles and let himself relax.

He spent a few hours lightly dozing, finally waking all the way when the front door slammed shut and Laura’s voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm, “Oh I’m sorry, did I disturb you?!”

Stiles jerked awake, headbutting Derek hard enough to hear a loud clunk. He flopped back onto the bed and yelled, “I’m trying to sleep, you bitter wench!” But he pulled himself out of Derek’s bed, rifling through the clothes on the floor for his pants.

“I hate you,” Derek muttered, knowing Laura would be able to hear him.

“You hate _me_? I had to stay in a hotel last night! I checked in at 4:00 am! They thought I was a prostitute some senator was waiting for!” Laura yelled back. Derek thought Stiles deserved a medal for managing to hold back his laughter.

Once they were dressed, he and Stiles left Derek’s room to face the wrath of Laura. She was standing at the coffeemaker, her hair sticking out in six different directions and her eyes were rimmed with dark, bruise-like rings. Then her smell hit him. Derek frowned.

“Laura…what hotel did you end up at?” he asked slowly.

“Don’t end your sentence with a preposition, Derek. You’re not an animal,” Laura said. Stiles snorted.

“Laura,” Derek said again. “Where did you stay last night?”

“Well,” Laura said slowly. Derek could see the cogs in her head turning and the exact moment she realized she wouldn’t be able to lie to him. “Oh hell, I was at the St. Regis, okay?”

Stiles seemed to choke on his own uvula. Derek absently patted him on the back, smugly looking at Laura.

“The St. Regis?” Stiles asked through his coughing. “As in, the St. Regis where Lydia is staying? As in, you were with Lydia last night?”

“We ran into each other,” Laura said.

“At 4:00 am,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow. “Where?”

“…In the lobby after I texted her.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god, did you hook up with Lydia?” Stiles turned wide eyes to Derek. “Did your sister sleep with my best friend?”

“Smells like it. You could have at least showered, Laura.”

“I did!”

“Not well.”

“I don’t even…you…this is so weird, you slept with one of my best friends,” Stiles moaned.

“You’re sleeping with my brother,” Laura pointed out.

“It’s apples and orange! It’s werewolves and banshees! I need to sit down.” Stiles thunked down into a chair at the kitchen table, letting his head drop to the wood. “I have not had enough sleep for this.”

“Banshee?” Derek asked.

“Oh god,” Stiles moaned, face squished against the table. “Lydia is going to kill me.”

Laura reached across the table and ruffled Stiles’ hair. “Don’t worry, kiddo, she almost killed me last night with that tongue of hers,” Laura said, taking a drink from her coffee.

Derek had enough time to groan before Stiles’ head shot up, his eyes wide and horrified, then they narrowed. “You know, a while ago, that’d be hot as hell, but my tastes have changed. I’m pretty addicted to your brother’s dick in my ass.”

Laura spit out her mouthful of coffee all over the kitchen table. Derek clapped a hand over Stiles’ mouth, closing his eyes in horror at both his boyfriend and his sister. Yeah, he’d missed the teasing that came with having a pack, but this wasn’t what he had in mind.

“Banshee?” Laura said when she finished choking. Stiles tried to say something but it was muffled by the hand over his mouth. He frowned over at Derek and stuck his tongue out, licking all over Derek’s hand. Derek just raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He regularly had Stiles’ tongue in his ass, a little saliva on the hand wasn’t anything. Luckily, a knock on the front door saved him from having to act as a referee between Stiles and his sister. He pulled the hand away when Laura went to answer the door.

“Rude,” Stiles said.

“Funnily enough, I don’t want to talk about my sex life with my older sister,” Derek said dryly. 

“She started it.”

Derek kissed the top of Stiles’ head, rolling his eyes. “Why do I love you?”

“Because you’re smart.”

Derek snorted and turned to see Laura opening the door for Lydia, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She pulled off her gloves while judgmentally eying Stiles’ neck.

“Hickeys, boys? Really?”

“Oh like you’re one to talk,” Stiles huffed.

Lydia smiled, tossing her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. Of course, she looked completely put together; makeup expertly done, outfit immaculate. Stiles had mentioned that was something he both admired and hated. Derek could kind of understand why.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lydia said with a smirk. “I leave them in places you don’t see.”

Stiles gave her a dirty glare, right when Laura decided to cross her arms over her chest and stared at Lydia. “Banshee?”

Lydia made an exasperated noise and turned to Stiles. “You told them?”

“Yeah, well, they’re werewolves!”

Lydia rolled her eyes hard enough to put Derek to shame. “Obviously.”

“I –what? You knew?” Stiles said.

“You didn’t? You’re slipping, Stiles.”

“I need to sit down again.”

Lydia turned to Laura. “And yes, banshee.”

“What the hell has been happening since we left Beacon Hills?” Laura asked incredulously. 

“Darachs, a nemeton, Stiles technically died, actually,” Lydia listed, counting off on her fingers. “The wendigoes weren’t fun.”

“Oh and that witch that cursed Scott to only speak in iambic pentameter for a week,” Stiles said, grinning. “That was fun.”

“You died?” Derek growled, grabbing Stiles’ upper arm. He only realized his claws were out when Stiles winced. He pulled back immediately.

“Uh, kind of? Not permanently,” Stiles said. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it, or you can question Lydia, whatever, but I have a meeting in like an hour at work and I really have to go. I love you, see you tonight.” Stiles kissed Derek and hurried out and over to his own apartment.

Both Hales turned their attention to Lydia.

“Feel like filling us in on what’s been going on in Beacon Hills?” Laura asked.

“Not particularly,” Lydia said but she sat at the kitchen table anyway, her hands folded primly in front of her. “But I will.”

The more Lydia talked, the bigger the headache between Derek’s eyes grew. When she got to human sacrifices, Derek vaguely started wondering if Beacon Hills was just cursed, plain and simple.

“Sounds like a hot mess,” Laura said when Lydia was done.

“We manage,” Lydia said. “The hunters aren’t what I’d call the most trustworthy of allies, Allison excluded of course, but they come through often enough. Their bestiary is helpful too, though they don’t exactly know we have it.”

“All of that since you were fifteen,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“And we are all strong and in one piece,” Lydia said. She stood, smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on her clothes. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but I have an appointment. I just came by to check that Laura and I are still on for dinner tonight.”

“Yeah,” Laura said, still a bit dazed from all the new information. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good,” Lydia said and a few seconds later she was gone.

Laura turned wide eyes to Derek sitting across from the table. “What. The. Fuck.” Derek just shook his head; he had absolutely no idea how to answer her. “No, seriously, what the fuck? We leave for a couple of years and bam, up pop dark druids and cannibalistic monsters and rogue alphas and Argents?”

“Twelve years,” Derek said quietly.

“What?”

“Not a couple of years, Laura. It’s been twelve.”

Laura deflated at that, shoulders hunching and she suddenly looked just as tired as Derek felt. Everything in Derek’s world, everything that mattered, at least, had been turned upside down by the ankles and shaken down for every last penny. Stiles, his mate, knew about werewolves. He’d gleefully accepted Derek, fur and all. Beacon Hills had turned into a bad season of Charmed. Derek reached out for his alpha’s comfort and she gave it, grasping his hand in hers. Times like these reminded him of how grateful he was that Laura was the alpha and not him.

“We have to go back,” she said quietly, squeezing Derek’s hand. He just looked at her. “Not forever, not right now, but we do. I know you feel the pull like I do.”

And he did. Beacon Hills was like a dull ache behind his eyes that never truly left, something he just learned to ignore. It was their territory, their land, and if Derek was uncomfortable with wolves, especially ones he didn’t know, living in Beacon Hills, then it must be a thousand times worse for Laura as the alpha.

“I know,” was all he said.

“We just need to check the territory, make sure the werewolves there are actually as in control as Stiles thinks,” Laura said.

“Laura,” Derek said in a voice that he hoped was soothing. “I know. We need to.” Laura nodded, eyes a little wide and Derek was struck by how young Laura was, barely eighteen when she became an alpha. His strong, put together sister who had felt the kiss if their family as long and as strongly as Derek had. He came around the table and pulled Laura up into a hug, holding her tightly.

“Stiles is going back for a week or so in December to see his dad for Christmas,” Derek said into her hair. “We could go then. That way pack would be nearby, that should help.”

Laura nodded. “You should ask him, just to make sure it’s okay with him.”

“I will,” Derek said, pulling back. “This is not what I expected to happen this weekend.”

Laura laughed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Yeah, well it definitely could have gone worse. He didn’t run away screaming. Or faint. I kind of thought he’d faint.”

“Looks like you underestimated him,” Derek said proudly.

“I won’t again.”

-

The day dragged on and on for Derek. He only had about a half hour between when Stiles got home and Derek had to leave for work. They ate a quick dinner at Stiles’, then Derek spent the last fifteen minutes with his body draped over Stiles’ on the couch, nuzzling Stiles’ neck and only pulling back when he was completely satisfied that they reeked of each other.

Stiles let out a breathy sound and teased Derek about peeing in a circle around his territory. At least he did until Derek told him werewolves and other supernatural creatures frequented the bar where he worked and would be able to smell Stiles all over him. Stiles narrowed his eyes and pounced on Derek, wriggling as much as possible while Derek laughed until he needed to get up and go to work.

“Nooo,” Stiles whined and dragged Derek away from the door by his belt loops. Stiles’ mouth was hot on Derek’s, tongue delving and greedy. Derek pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles’. 

“I’ll be back late,” he said, nudging Stiles’ nose with his own. “Love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you, too.”

Derek was pretty distracted for his whole shift. His boss had to stop him twice from making a tequila sunrise with vodka. His mind was stuck on Stiles and while that wasn’t exactly unusual, this was like his mind was in a haze. He was going through the motions mostly on autopilot, getting everything done but not nearly on par with his usual quality of work.

A werewolf regular gave Derek a knowing smirk when he gave her her drink. He scowled but she just patted his arm. He fought the urge to yank his arm away to scratch off the smell of her.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” she said, voice at a normal volume despite the blaring music.

“I work here,” he said flatly. The girl rolled her eyes but still looked amused.

“I know, dumbass, I’ve been here every weekend for six months flirting with you,” she said. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Known. What.” Derek demanded through gritted teeth. He was thoroughly tired of drunks and smirking werewolves and just wanted to go home.

“The mate bond,” she said with an implied ‘duh’ at the end. Derek stilled in the way werewolves seemed to be able to, like you could look past them and not even notice they were there. “You didn’t…know.” She looked extremely uncomfortable.

Derek’s patience was wearing so, so thin. “Talk.”

“You started the mating bond, right?” she said, not waiting for him to answer. “You’re in one of the stages, god, can’t you smell the pheromones you’re swimming in?” Derek was seriously glad that the music was loud and the lights were low so no one could hear their conversation or see how white his face went.

Oh fuck. “Fuck.” He was so goddamn stupid. Of course he was craving Stiles. Stiles had accepted Derek’s wolf, had acknowledged he wanted a future with him. The bond was starting and pulling at them, but they weren’t close enough. He’d been gone from Stiles for too long, he could feel his absence like an electric shock now that he focused on it.

He told his boss that he was sick and needed to leave. The other man wasn’t thrilled but since Derek had literally never called out before, and did look pale, he let him go.

Normally Derek would take the subway or walk, never particularly caring about getting home quickly, but this time he hailed a cab, tossing the man a one hundred dollar bill, telling him he could keep it if he made it quick. The cabbie sped off in true New York fashion.

Even playing it fast and loose with traffic laws, it would be at least ten minutes until Derek got to his apartment, so he pulled out his phone to let Stiles know he was coming back, only to see a dozen new texts.

**_From: Stiles (6:10 pm)_  
I miss you. You left five minutes ago. Is that pathetic? It feels pathetic.**

**_From: Stiles (6:20 pm)_  
Your weird wolfy scent thing is contagious, I just stuffed my face in your sweatshirt because it smells like you.**

**_From: Stiles (6:21 pm)_  
Oh my god ignore that please make me shut up**

**_From: Stiles (6:22 pm)_  
You usually shut me up with your dick, I’m down for that.**

**_From: Stiles (6:23 pm)_  
Like always, magic, perfect dick.**

**_From: Stiles (7:01 pm)_  
Not feeling so good…did that kung pao chicken make you woozy, too? Stupid question. Werewolf.**

**_From: Stiles (7:15 pm)_  
I’m going to build a blanket nest and try to sleep this off. If I’m still awake, feel free to come in and use your magic werewolf warmth.**

**_From: Stiles (8:00 pm)_  
Not working =(**

**_From: Stiles (8:33 pm)_  
I miss your face. And arms. And back.**

**_From: Stiles (8:34 pm)_  
And your everything.**

**_From: Stiles (8:40 pm)_  
Seriously sick. Double vision…wow this sucks**

**_From: Stiles (9:04 pm)_  
Laura let me in. I needed to huddle in your bed. It feels like you and smells like you. Is that weird? It sounds weird. I’m weird tonight…And I promise to try to not throw up in your bed. No promises though.**

**_From: Stiles (9:10 pm)_  
Wow I didn’t realize how many texts that was, sorry dude. I’ll leave you alone. Have a good shift.**

That was the last text, sent over an hour ago. Derek cursed under his breath. He didn’t understand how Stiles, a human, was being affected by the side effects of the upgraded bond status, but he was. Worse, instead of just making him hazy and unbalanced like Derek, it was making him physically sick. Derek fired off his text to Stiles and tapped his foot, willing the New York traffic to magically disappear.

**To: Stiles (10:14 pm)  
Stiles, I’m on my way home. I’ll be there soon. **

There was a traffic jam two blocks from Derek’s building. Because of course there was. He gave the cab driver a thank you over his shoulder, told him to keep the money, and dashed out of the cab. He made sure to keep his supernatural speed just a bit above normal, just enough so that people would just think he was really athletic, but not suspiciously so. The neighbors probably thought he’d lost his damn mind as he sprinted through the halls, but he didn’t even glance their way, his focus solely on Stiles and the fact that he could now feel him, like a small tug leading to his apartment.

Derek was vaguely aware of locking the apartment door behind him and dropping his jacket in the hall, but he didn’t feel the haze start to lift until he was standing in his bedroom doorway, breathing harsh and erratic, and saw Stiles huddled in his bed. Derek’s blanket was wrapped around Stiles so completely that Derek could only see the top his head sticking out where it was buried in Derek’s pillow. The lump of Stiles was quivering, small mewls of what sounded like pain escaping him.

Derek’s heart broke. He was across the room in less than a second, crawling into bed beside Stiles. It took a few seconds of confusion and careful maneuvering to unwrap Stiles from his blanket burrito, but it was worth it when he was able to pull Stiles to his chest, wrapping his mate up in his arms. The shaking stopped and Stiles woke up enough to look up at Derek. There were dark bags under his eyes like smudged coal.

“Hey, puppy,” Stiles murmured, nuzzling at Derek’s neck. Derek snorted.

“Dog jokes, Stiles? Really?”

“Nuh uh,” Stiles said. “I called you puppy before and I’m not stopping now.” He sighed, fidgeting a little before finally settling, wrapping his arms around Derek. “I feel a lot better now. Sorry for the text assault. I swear I’m never that clingy. Well I guess you know that since we’ve been dating for over four months.”

“Stiles, it’s fine, I-”

“I just felt like I really needed you? Like you were gone and it was just a constant ache, then I started feeling sick and your bed smelled like you and…” Stiles trailed off and looked up at Derek, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Derek, is this a wolfy thing?”

“I think so,” Derek said quietly. “I couldn’t…you were all I could think about. I felt like I was walking through fog and just needed to get to you.”

“What’s going on, Derek? Why do I feel like I want to roll all over you like a damn cat on catnip?”

“I think it’s the mating bond,” Derek said. Stiles went very still in his arms and when he spoke, his voice was careful and measured.

“I thought we hadn’t completed that yet.”

“We haven’t,” Derek said, rubbing his cheek against the top of Stiles’ head, partly in an attempt to nudge away the other man’s anxiety, and partially because Stiles was right; being entangled with Stiles was making him feel significantly better than he had at work. “I told you that my wolf recognized you as a mate and made a preliminary bond with you. Last night, you accepted my wolf and me. It didn’t complete the bond, that’s not possible without intent, knotting, and the mating bite.”

“Knotting is a thing?!” Stiles asked, whipping his head up to look at Derek.

Derek just rolled his eyes and said, “Seriously, Stiles? That’s what you got from that?”

Stiles flushed but poked Derek in the chest with a long finger. “Don’t think we aren’t talking about this later,” he said. “Anyway. So, I accepted you are my future mate so now we’re supernaturally superglued together?”

Derek snorted and ran a thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone, having to stifle a shudder when Stiles’ eyelids fluttered and he leaned in Derek’s touch.

“Not exactly. I think it’s like a stage in the mate bond. We recognize each other as mates and have a connection, we just haven’t solidified it yet.”

“So, what, we’re like werewolf engaged?” Stiles asked. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze locked on Derek.

“Not exactly,” Derek said slowly. “More like pre-bonded. It gives off certain pheromones and other weres can tell you’re in a claim…okay it’s like being engaged, with more body chemistry and supernatural elements.” He waited a beat, aware of how final it sounded. “Does that scare you? It’s not permanent yet. You can break it if you still want to.” Derek’s heart was pounding, his wolf whining in fear of his mate leaving. But Stiles’ eyes widened and he crawled up onto Derek’s lap, straddling him.

“Oh my god, no, no, don’t think that, Derek, please,” Stiles said. He took Derek’s face in his hands and stared at him earnestly, like he was willing Derek to see inside his head. “I’m not doubting us. I’ll never doubt us. I was just trying to understand. Get this through your head, Derek Salem Hale – “

“My middle name isn’t Salem.”

“-SALEM HALE,” Stiles continued loudly. “You’re it for me. I don’t want anything else, I never will. Fuck, Derek, I love you so much, please don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

Derek lunged up, grabbing Stiles by the nape of the neck and yanking him down for a kiss that at first was more teeth than anything else. He pushed into Stiles’ mouth, body singing at the taste of him. The half-formed bond pulsated between them, flaring hot and bright. Stiles ripped his mouth away, panting.

“Is that, god, is that the bond?” he asked. “That feels weird. So good but weird.”

“Yeah,” Derek said.

“Will it always be like that?”

“I think it’ll get stronger when we finish it.”

Stiles groaned and ducked down, recapturing Derek’s mouth. Their hips rolled against each other’s, the sweet friction of their clothed cocks rubbing together muted through too many layers. It only took a second to pop the button of his jeans and yank down Stiles’ sweats (they were actually Derek’s sweats, he was pleased to note) and grasp their cocks together in one large hand. He fumbled for the lube on the bedside table, werewolf grace lost as he shakily slicked them up.

The moan Stiles let out when Derek stroked them together would haunt Derek’s wet dreams for the rest of his life. This was going to be short; the hot slide of his dick next to Stiles’ and the new, half-finished bond heightened the pleasure until Derek was cursing and hissing Stiles’ name, stuck in what felt like a feedback loop of ecstasy until he spilled over his fist.

He was hot and weak from his orgasm but he kept pumping Stiles’ cock, using his own come to slick him up. The smell of his seed mixed with Stiles’ hit his nose when Stiles came, whimpering and twitching in Derek’s hand. Derek, fingers now coated in their release, traced Stiles’ hip bones, the dark hair low on his stomach, and up his torso, smearing the mess into his skin. Stiles whimpered and collapsed on top of Derek, letting the bigger man take his weight. Derek’s arms wrapped around Stiles immediately, cradling him to his chest.

“Love you,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s neck.

It wasn’t the first time Stiles had said it, it wasn’t even the hundredth, but hearing it always made Derek feel like his insides were tingly and suddenly in zero gravity. He nuzzled Stiles’ neck and said, “I know.”

Stiles laughed and halfheartedly slapped at Derek’s side. “Hot as fuck and a total nerd. The whole package,” he said. Sleepiness was crawling into Stiles’ voice, so Derek gently rolled him to the side and fumbled an arm over the side of the bed, searching for something to clean them up. He triumphantly grabbed Stiles’ boxers and gently wiped down Stiles before giving himself a perfunctory rub. Stiles grumbled at his boxers being used as a “come rag”, but he didn’t seem to actually mind, especially when Derek manhandled him until he was arranged perfectly, curled into Derek’s side. 

“I feel a lot better now,” Stiles said. His fingers were idly tracing patterns over Derek’s ribs, a habit Derek loved.

“I do, too,” Derek said. His chin was resting atop Stiles’ head, making it easy to breathe in his scent without getting caught. But now Stiles knew he was a werewolf, knew all about scenting, so Derek didn’t need to be subtle. He inhaled the unique, spicy fresh scent that couldn’t be labeled as anything but ‘Stiles’ and let out a rumble of satisfaction.

“So this is what we needed to feel not-sick? A nice fuck and cuddle?” Stiles asked.

“Yes,” Derek deadpanned. “Now required three times a day. Or we’ll die.”

Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, laughing. “You jackass, you know what I mean.”

“I think so. Laura and I never asked for specifics before…before,” Derek said, awkwardly sidestepping the fire. “I know that after the full mating bond is completed, you don’t see the couple for a while. My dad described it as a sort of honeymoon. Time alone with your mate to strengthen the bond.”

“So sort of like letting your spiritual superglue dry?” Stiles asked.

Derek snorted. “If that helps you.”

“So this is just us adjusting to the werewolf engagement Elmer’s glue,” Stiles said, musing out loud. “I am so okay with that.”

He burrowed in closer to Derek, shoving his legs between the other man’s and sighing contentedly. Derek rolled his eyes and let out a huff, mostly for appearance’s sake, but tightened his arms around Stiles, letting himself be soothed by his mate’s heart steadily beating.

-

 

Unfortunately, according to Derek, he and Stiles still had the planned Skype call to Scott the next day. Derek suggested to Stiles, while pumping fingers into him, that they delay it. After Stiles came messily on the blanket, he patted Derek affectionately on the cheek and told him no way.

“Don’t worry, he’ll see your claim,” Stiles said, pointing to the bruises and bite marks covering a good portion of his neck. Derek couldn’t find it in himself to even pretend to be sorry.

After lunch, Stiles opened Skype on Derek’s laptop (after downloading Skype on Derek’s laptop) and called Scott. It took a few minutes for him to answer, looking groggy.

“Scott, it’s past 10:00 am, dude. Get it together,” Stiles teased.

“You were never up before noon on weekends in high school,” Scott countered. A coffee mug appeared in the frame and Scott inhaled deeply, eyes shining with happiness. Derek could see why Stiles called him an overgrown puppy. He had the most earnest eyes Derek had ever seen, plus the floppy brown hair and slightly uneven jawline, yeah, Derek could definitely see it.

“Scotty!” Stiles said, beaming. “How’s life? How’s Allison? No, wait, don’t talk about Allison or we won’t get anything done.”

Scott laughed but Derek saw the way Scott’s face went soft and dreamy. He was glad Stiles cut that off before it could get in too far.

“Scott, this is my sexy werewolf boyfriend, Derek. Derek, this is my brother from another mother, Scott,” Stiles said, flourishing his hand between Derek and the screen. Derek waved a little awkwardly, but Scott smiled, all puppy sunshine brightness.

“Oh my god, man, I’m so glad you’re real,” Scott said.

Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise but Stiles, indignant, spoke before Derek could. “What do you mean, you’re happy he’s real? Did you think I made up my ridiculously hot werewolf boyfriend?”

“No! I’m happy he’s real because Cassie was an asshole!” Scott said. That surprised a laugh out of Derek, something that seemed to make Scott very proud.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, anyway!” Stiles said. “Welcome to Werewolf 101!”

Derek managed not to roll his eyes too hard and just shrugged, hoping Scott would take it as a sign to go ahead. When Scott just shifted uncomfortably, Stiles butted in with, “This isn’t going to work if no one says anything. Scott, I know you have questions, so go, ask! He doesn’t bite, unless you’re me.” He winked at Derek.

Scott grimaced and flushed but it seemed to do the trick, stirring him into action. “I’m not really new at this but everything Boyd, Isaac, and I know is from Stiles’ research or we pretty much figured out for ourselves. I don’t want to sound like an idiot and I’m not even sure where to start...We didn’t exactly want to take the word of hunters.”

“You’re not an idiot, you managed to get control as a werewolf with no alpha and no help,” Derek said. Stiles cleared his throat loudly. “No _werewolf_ help. I can just start with the basics and you can interrupt if you already know what I’m saying or if you have a question?”

That’s how Derek ended up on Skype for four hours, Stiles flitting in and out a few times with pizza and pop. Scott wasn’t nearly as clueless as Derek thought he’d be. Most of what Derek did was confirm information Scott already knew, just putting some names to facts and describing how packs worked.

Scott hummed when Derek finished telling him about the relationship between an alpha and their betas. He seemed to think on what he was going to say for a few moments before speaking. “It makes sense. I mean, we all kind of go by what we all this is best, but it always feels weird when one of us has to make the final decision. Like we’re missing something.”

“An alpha,” Derek said softly. He needed to tread lightly here; pack matters were a delicate thing to discuss with outside wolves. Even if Scott, Isaac, and Boyd weren’t technically a pack, the instincts were probably still there. Hell, Derek was surprised Scott hadn’t hated him right off the bat for claiming Stiles.

“That’s an alpha’s role,” Derek continued. “In a healthy pack, an alpha isn’t a total dictator. They listen to their pack and lead with strength and wisdom. They protect. If it comes down to a hard decision, they make it if necessary. It’s closer than just family, it’s like you’re all part of the same organism.”

“The pack bond,” Stiles said quietly. 

“Is that how it is for you and Laura?” Scott asked.

Derek shrugged. “We’re a bit different since it’s just us, but we try.” He didn’t tell Scott that until recently, their pack bond had been broken, about how without it, they’d spent years surviving without ever recognizing that they weren’t really living. He shocked himself when he quietly said, “That’s how my mom ran it when she was the Beacon Hills alpha.”

Scott’s eyes softened, but Derek didn’t see the pity he’d come to expect, and hated. Stiles made a soft sound and slid his hand into Derek’s where it was resting on the table.

“Since we don’t have an alpha, does that make us omegas?” Scott asked, letting Derek take the conversation away from his family.

“Traditionally, you’d probably be considered omegas,” Derek admitted. “But I’d say no. You’re not outcasts or fleeing. You’re established, like betas.”

“Just without an alpha,” Scott said.

Derek shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s not my place to tell you how to run your lives. I can give you Laura’s number if you want. She knows a bit more than I do, and has an alpha’s perspective.”

“Yeah, please,” Scott said. “Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done!”

“I know,” Derek said with a small smile. 

“So!” Stiles said loudly. “Let’s get to the good stuff.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Mating.”

Scott clamped his hands over his ears. “LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU, BYE! THANKS DEREK!” The screen went black as Scott slammed down his laptop, cutting off the call.

Stiles laughed and crawled into Derek’s lap. It was a little awkward to straddle him in the kitchen chair, Stiles’ legs dangling and the table pushing into his back, but Derek didn’t care. He was strong. He could, and happily would, take Stiles’ weight. Stiles leaned in, kissing Derek sweetly, before pulling back and staring at him with such adoration that it made Derek ache.

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly.

“For what?” Derek asked.

“For sitting down for four hours to talk to your annoying, hyperactive boyfriend’s best friend,” Stiles said. “You didn’t have to, but you basically offered to be Scott’s werewolf mentor.”

“It’s nothing, really. You were right, he deserves to know as much about himself as possible,” Derek said. He pulled Stiles down by the back of his neck until their lips were just brushing. “And stop saying things like that about yourself. You’re brilliant, kind, funny, caring, so beautiful. Perfect for me. Perfect mate.”

Derek couldn’t see Stiles’ smile but he could feel it against his lips before Stiles kissed him, licking at the seam of his mouth before Derek granted him access. The kiss turned filthy in seconds, but before it could go anywhere, Laura loudly opened the front door. Derek reluctantly pulled away from Stiles and rested his forehead against the other man’s shoulder, nuzzling one of the bright marks.

“Nuh uh! None of that, alpha’s order!” Laura said, whacking Derek on the back of the head when she walked by. “I gave you guys all day, you will be decent and boner-less while I’m here.”

“Can’t really promise anything about that second one, your brother is hot,” Stiles said, sliding off Derek’s lap. Laura mimed gagging. “But I promise no raucous sex where you can see or hear.”

“I can hear that cat shitting four doors down,” Laura said. 

“Our bedroom doesn’t count,” Stiles said. Derek managed not to growl in pleasure at Stiles calling it their room.

Laura grumbled something like ‘nesting motherfuckers’ and that was right when Derek finally noticed Laura’s scent.

“So Laura,” Derek said with a smirk. “Why do you smell like Lydia?”

Laura’s cheeks flushed but she raised her chin. “We had lunch. And we’re going to a gallery opening tonight, so you little deviants can have all the loud, monkey sex you want.”

“Thanks for the permission,” Derek deadpanned. Stiles just waggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t get more jizz on the couch.”

Stiles gave her a cheeky salute and yanked Derek up by the arm. “You heard your sister, we have to go cover your room in spunk.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what she meant,” Derek said wryly, but let himself be pulled by Stiles into the bedroom.

“Sure it is,” Stiles said cheerily, closing the door behind them. “She doesn’t want the glorious Stiles and Derek love juice wasted on the couch. That means your room needs it. Like a sex air freshener.”

“I don’t understand your logic,” Derek said. Stiles pushed him back on the bed and straddled him, warm hands running up Derek’s torso under his shirt.

“You complaining?”

“Never.”

-

Derek’s boss wasn’t exactly thrilled that one of his “best goddamn mechanics” was taking the next few days off, but he couldn’t really say much because, just like at Derek’s second job at the bar, he’d never taken any personal time in the last four years. Stiles’ boss had hemmed and hawed until Stiles told her that he was a week ahead on some bigshot client’s project. She just paused and said, “Oh. Have fun, then.”

So Derek got exactly what he didn’t even know he wanted. Yeah, claiming Stiles had been on his mind for months, but this nesting instinct? He hadn’t seen that coming. He and Stiles spent three days all but secluded in Derek’s room, only leaving to use the bathroom and to haul more granola bars and water bottles back into the bedroom.

It stank of Stiles and Derek and sex. Derek had pouted when Stiles tried to open a window to air the room out, so they compromised by only cracking it a little, the scent of them permeating the room so completely that Derek doubted it would ever totally dissipate. That was fine with him.

They switched being frantic, animalistic fucking, and slow, lazy sex when they would spend hours opening each other up, slick fingers sliding deep into the clutching heat of each other’s body. Stiles’ delicious mewls always spurred Derek on, overwhelmed with the need to draw out as many noises as he could. And god, Stiles’ fingers, so long and dexterous, grazing over Derek’s prostate against and again until he came untouched, clenching around Stiles’ digits.

More often than not, they fell into a doze with one of them buried in the other’s body, unwilling to give up the sweet feeling of being so full. Stiles had laughed when Derek called it making love, but his heartbeat sped up and he reeked of happiness.

They eventually had to disentangle themselves when their long weekend was over and the real world called. Stiles refused to share a shower with Derek Monday morning, claiming they’d never get out and end up three hours late to work. Derek grumbled but agreed. He did insist on scenting Stiles at the front door, though. He ran his nose lightly along Stiles’ jawline and nipped a little at the skin behind his ear, rumbling in approval at the hitch in Stiles’ breath.

“Go to work,” Derek mumbled against the shell of his ear. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Stiles shivered and did what Derek said, turning to smile before he disappeared down the hall and into the stairwell. Derek was still grinning like an idiot when he went back inside and joined Laura for breakfast. He felt amazing; calm, content. He didn’t even notice Laura’s shit-eating grin until he was four bites into his scrambled eggs.

“What?”

“You two are absolutely disgusting,” Laura said cheerily. “Totally gross.”

Derek shrugged. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

Laura snorted, shaking her head. She munched on a piece of bacon before asking, “Do you feel better?”

Derek nodded, swallowing a mouthful of eggs before answering. “More grounded, if that makes sense.” Laura nodded. “I don’t remember much about what Mom and Dad said about mating bonds, do you? I always assumed we’d have more time to ask when we needed to.”

Laura smiles sadly. “I don’t remember much more than you. The basics, how to create the bond, it felt like all the ‘puzzle piece’ and ‘two halves becoming whole’ clichés all put together.”

“Yeah, same,” Derek said. “So, are you going to tell me about this gallery opening you went to with Lydia?”

“Nope,” Laura said. “I am going to tell you about someone Lydia introduced me to, though.”

Derek raised his eyebrows and motioned for her to go on with his fork.

“This woman is some crazy art fanatic, right? She’s raving for like fifteen minutes about this obscure artists from France that was supposed to be coming over for a show after Thanksgiving and canceled last minute. Turns out the nutty art lady owns a different gallery in Manhattan and is doing a show full of dark and weird shit.

“So Lydia whips out her phone and shows her pictures of that twisted Red Riding Hood series I did and long story short, she asked to see my portfolio and I now have three paintings featured in a gallery show starting in a week and a half.”

“Laura!” Derek jumped up and pulled her into a hug. “Congratulations! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Like I was going to interrupt the sexathon?” Laura asked, grinning. “I don’t even know how Lydia got pictures of my paintings but I don’t even care. I’m going to be in a gallery!”

Derek grinned and hugged Laura again. It had been a while since he’d seen her so full of childlike enthusiasm. She wasn’t unhappy by any means, but being an alpha did take a lot of control and strength and left very little room for thing she cared greatly about, even in a pack of two. Guilt welled up in Derek as he wondered how much Laura had been pushing her own happiness aside for what she thought was best for him.

“I’m proud of you, Laura,” Derek said, taking her by the shoulders to look her in the eyes. “You deserve this.”

Laura smiled brilliantly before pulling away to put on her coat. “I’m going to lunch with Lydia, celebration pad thai tonight, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re the best bro. Love you, bye!”

-

Stiles pounced on Laura as soon as she got back that night, yanking her into a hug that probably would have bruised if she were human. He chattered about how her work was “amazeballs” and was going to sell for millions of dollars and end up in museums until Derek shove half of a fresh roll into his mouth to shut him up.

“Did you tell Erica?” Derek asked while Stiles was busy chewing. “She’d probably want to come up and see the gallery.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” Laura said.

“Who’s Erica?” Stiles asked, spraying bits of fresh roll onto the table. Derek winced and threw a napkin at him.

“Erica belongs to a pack a few hours away,” Laura said. “We’ve run with them on the full moon a few times.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, brows drawing together. “She’s a wolf?”

“A beta,” Derek said. “She’s the only one of the Hardwick pack that we actually like.”

“We’re using them for the free food and forest,” Laura said. “Their alpha’s mate is a little too into the idea of Derek becoming a breeding boy for the pack.”

Stiles choked on his mouthful of rice, coughing and gagging with watery eyes. _”What?!”_

Derek rolled his eyes and shoved Stiles’ drink toward him. “Some packs are very old fashioned about bloodlines. They want born werewolf children from born werewolves-”

“Very Death Eater-like,” Laura interjected.

“-and if you don’t mate with another wolf, even a bitten wolf, you’re scum.”

“Are there a lot of born werewolves?” Stiles asked.

“No, which is how they got into inter-pack arranged marriages. For genepool diversity,” Laura said. “And why they keep offering me a strong, fertile beta to knock me up if I give them Derek.”

Stiles’ lip curled and his heartbeat ratcheted up a few beats.

“Our pack never did that,” Derek said, taking Stiles’ hand and rubbing his thumb over the other man’s knuckles. “Mom thought it was backwards and disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, still frowning. “So that’s how you met Erica?”

“Mmhmm,” Laura said. “She was one of the lucky ladies paraded in front of Derek for consideration.”

“She’s actually nice, though,” Derek said. “Not pureblood-driven like the rest of the pack.”

“Great, well as long as she’s nice,” Stiles grumbled under his breath.

“Stiles,” Derek said, tilting Stiles’ face up with a thumb under the chin. “Are you jealous?”

“No!” Stiles said quickly.

“Stiles,” Derek said, soft smile on his lips. “She’s nice, but she’s not you.” He pulled Stiles’ face to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

Stiles sighed against Derek’s lips before saying, “I love you, too.”

If Stiles was a little more possessive that night in bed, fucking Derek a little harder, sucking more dark marks even though they’d fade, well, Derek wasn’t complaining.

-

As predicted, Erica was completely “stoked, bitches!” to visit for Laura’s show. And, in Derek’s opinion, entirely too excited to meet Stiles. She screamed on the phone for a full five minutes before Derek could get a word in edgewise.

“Are you done?” Derek asked when he deemed it safe to put the phone back to his ear.

 _“I get to meet the famous Stiles!”_ Erica said. _“Come on, Der-bear, this is exciting!”_

“Stop calling me that,” Derek said. “Now are you going to stay here or at a hotel?”

_“A hotel that smells like that last five thousand people that have been there and all their bodily fluids? No, thank you.”_

“Then be nice.”

_“Killjoy.”_

Footsteps, a familiar heartbeat, and a muffled thump followed by a curse announced that Stiles was home from work. Derek grinned, unable to help it. Even the simple shuffling sounds of his mate next door made him at peace in a way that never happened unless Stiles was around.

 _“Hello, Derek, Earth to Derek,”_ Erica’s voice rang out in that tone that made it clear she’d been trying to get his attention for a while. 

“Sorry, what?” Derek asked. Erica snorted indelicately over the line. “That’s ladylike,” Derek deadpanned.

 _“Fuck ladylike, Derek Hale, I damn well know Laura taught you better than to buy into bullshit feminine stereotypes like ladylike,”_ Erica said. _“I swear, I-”_

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Derek said, cutting off what was sure to be a long speech. “Stiles just got home, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

 _“I’ll see you Friday, I expect Lucky Charms and cookie dough ice cream,”_ Erica said.

“I wouldn’t hold out hope for that,” Derek said and hung up.

Derek used to wait for Stiles to invite him over after work, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, but Stiles had told him not to be stupid and that he was always welcome, always wanted. Stiles hadn’t been able to walk straight for two days after.

Stiles was humming and dancing a little with a box knife, getting ready to cut into the package in front of him. He grinned when Derek walked in and blew him a kiss.

“I’m not sure you waving a box knife around is the safest thing, considering it’s you,” Derek said.

“Haha,” Stiles said dryly. Derek moved to stand behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Package from home?” Derek asked, noting the postmark. Stiles hummed in answer, sinking back further into Derek.

“I had my dad send me a few things from home. My notes from when Scott was bitten, my copy of the bestiary, things like that,” Stiles said. “It was kind of stupid of me not to bring it in the first place.”

Derek hummed, nuzzling the back of Stiles’ neck when Stiles sliced through the packing tape. Stiles started yanking out bubble wrap, cackling the whole time, when a scent wafting from the box caught Derek’s attention.

Derek stiffened at Stiles’ back as the smell of wolfsbane assaulted him. He jerked away, trying to take deep breaths, but all he could smell was the cloying scent coming from the box. Stiles’ voice was vaguely reaching him, but it wasn’t really registering as much more than background noise to the blood rushing in his ears.

Stiles had said he was fine with Derek being a werewolf, he’d been happy that Derek recognized him as his mate! Stiles had to know that Derek would never hurt him…so why did he have wolfsbane? Was he scared of Derek, did he not trust him? Did he really think he needed wolfsbane to protect himself? Derek’s stomach dropped. Was Stiles changing his mind?

Derek felt cold. It was like his ribs were squeezing his lungs and heart, whether it was from the wolfsbane or pure panic, he didn’t know. Stiles was in front of him, palms up to show he wasn’t a threat, but Derek backed up until his back hit the wall, jerking away.

“Derek, breathe with me, okay?” Stiles’ voice was calm, but sounded like it was coming through a muffled phone connection, his eyes wide and concerned. “Come on Derek, please breathe with me. Whatever it is, we’ll find a way to fix it, okay? We’ll make it okay, I promise.”

Derek tried, evening his breathing out to match Stiles’ as best as he could until the clenching in his chest let up, helping to ease him out of the blind panic. Stiles reached out again and placed a hand on Derek’s forearm, eyes pinched with hurt when Derek flinched, but he didn’t let go.

“Talk to me, Derek,” Stiles murmured, voice low and soothing. “You’re okay. Just a little panic attack but you’re fine. Let’s sit down, yeah?” Stiles gently pulled Derek into the living room and settled him on the couch. Stiles sat down next to him, twisting hands and hammering heart being the only things giving away how anxious he really was.

Derek’s head felt clearer farther away from the box of wolfsbane, enough that the mind-numbing panic he’d felt faded until he was left with a deep ache and the fear that Stiles was leaving him, that the aconite was to protect himself from Derek.

“Can you tell me what freaked you out? Did I do something?” Stiles asked and his eyes and voice we so goddamn earnest that Derek wanted desperately to believe that he was being irrational, that he knew Stiles loved him, but his boyfriend had, for all intents and purposes, a box of poison on his kitchen table.

“Are you afraid of me?” Derek asked. He forced himself to make eye contact while he asked. Stiles frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“Are you scared of me?”

Stiles looked at him blankly. “No, I’m not. Derek, why would you even think that?”

“The box of wolfsbane on your table gives off that impression,” Derek said stonily, jerking his head toward the kitchen.

Stiles eyes went from confused to wide and horrified in less than a second. His mouth dropped open and it would look comical in any other situation, but Derek wasn’t laughing.

“No! Derek, no, oh my god, I’m so fucking stupid,” Stiles said. He crawled into Derek’s lap and despite his doubts, his hands wrapped around Stiles’ waist, holding him in place. “No, Derek. I have a huge-ass collection of wolfsbane because I was tired of watching my friends get poisoned! We almost lost Isaac once because we couldn’t find the right strain of wolfsbane growing anywhere. So I made like, a first aid kit just in case. 

“It’s not like New York is full of wolfsbane fields. I had Dad send it to me in case something happens to you or Laura. Oh my god, you thought I wanted to defend myself? No, Derek, why would you think that?”

Derek breathed a deep sigh, feeling the tension ease out of him, his rapid heartbeat easing closer to normal. Stiles loved him, it was okay. Stiles wanted to protect him. A perfect, good mate.

“It’s – you know my past, I jumped to the wrong conclusions,” Derek muttered.

Stiles stiffened in Derek’s arms and pulled back to stare at him. “Why, because I’m human?”

“What?” Derek asked, frowning.

“Because that doesn’t make me like your psycho ex!”

“I know you’re not!” Derek said. “I’m not looking to fight, Stiles.”

“You think I’m willing to poison you! You said…” Stiles trailed off, suddenly sounding uncertain. “You said I’m your mate,” he continued quietly. “And you don’t trust me.”

“I do,” Derek said. “Stiles, of course I do, you know that.”

Stiles slid off Derek’s lap and shifted to the other end of the couch. “I’m sorry the wolfsbane scared you,” Stiles said, his voice careful, and Derek hated that he’d made that happen. “I just wanted to keep you safe. If we’re going to do this, if we’re going to finish the bond and become mates, you’re going to somehow learn to trust me, and believe that I love you.”

“I do,” Derek said quietly, but there was a little voice in the niggling in the back of him mind that said maybe Stiles was right. The voice sounded a lot like Kate.

Stiles smiled sadly, like he could see Derek’s thought process. Maybe he could, he’d always been able to read Derek too well. Eyebrow sign language, he’d called it.

“I love you,” Stiles said and as usual, there was no blip of lie in his heartbeat, no curling smell of deceit. “I love you so much Derek, and I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I love you, too,” Derek said automatically. His heart was racing, sped up by the unhappy smell coming from Stiles. He wanted to tell Stiles that he was sorry he was so broken, that he’d be better and to please give him another chance, but the words were stuck in his throat.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Stiles said quickly, touching Derek’s hand. “I just…I think I need to be alone tonight.”

Derek’s stomach swooped low, and he pulled his hand back. He wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t want to apologize for being wary of a poison that specifically attacked him species, and he didn’t know how to say that without starting a fight.

He stood, feeling strangely hollow, and left Stiles on the couch, unable to look back, returning to his own apartment. The look Laura gave him made it clear that she’d heard everything but he didn’t stop to talk to her, just went straight to his room. Stiles’ scent clung to everything, mixing beautifully with Derek’s, but it was especially strong in his bed. Derek crawled in, curling up in the nest of blankets that smelled so much like them that it made Derek ache. 

For the first time in months, Derek went to sleep alone, the bed around him empty and cold.

-

Derek felt like he was walking through molasses the next day. He had to force himself to get out of bed and even shower, let alone actually go to work. His boss got tired of him after a few hours, throwing an oil-stained rag in his face and said, “Go the fuck home, Hale.”

The fight with Stiles had jarred him more than he wanted to admit. Yeah, they snipped at each other and were always full of sarcasm, but neither of them ever took it seriously. Neither of them were ever hurt.

Laura had been texting him all day, trying to cheer him up, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it was doing the exact opposite. Every time his phone buzzed, his chest tightened with the hope that it was Stiles. Each time Laura’s name popped up, it was a lead weight sinking deep in his stomach.

This was getting ridiculous. He never should have left Stiles’ the night before. He should have stayed until they hashed everything out and were on the same page and they could fall asleep wrapped around each other. Instead, Derek was spending his day walking aimlessly around New York, miserable and lost in his thoughts. Occasionally, a pang of sadness hit him through the partially complete mate bond and he wished he could be vindictively happy that Stiles was upset, too, but it only made him feel worse.

A spike of Stiles’ anxiety and fear hit Derek when he was a few miles from home and that was the straw that broke the emotional camel’s back. He was going home, he and Stiles were going to talk about this like the goddamn adults they were, and hopefully their first fight would be out of the way and they could go back to the way they were.

Derek was just walking into his apartment building when his phone buzzed again. Fully expecting to see Laura’s name and another picture of a dog stuffed into a biker vest, he pulled out his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw Stiles’ name. 

It wasn’t a call, just a text, but Derek didn’t care. Half of him had been afraid that he’d never see Stiles’ name on his screen again, that they’d just stay silent and fall apart. Derek should have known that Stiles would never be silent.

The text was simple. ****

**_From: Stiles (5:43 pm)_  
Can you come over tonight?**

Derek instantly replied. 

**To: Stiles (5:44 pm)  
Now?**

Stiles answered as soon as the elevator doors were sliding closed in front of Derek.

**_From: Stiles (5:49 pm)_  
Sure**

Stiles’ front door was open when Derek got to their hallway and he was standing in front of it, nervously playing with his hands. Stiles’ heart was beating so quickly that Derek could probably play Flight of the Bumblebee to it if he wanted. He stopped a few feet away from Stiles, a heavy awkwardness settling over them for the first time that Derek could remember.

Stiles opened his mouth a few times but no sound came out, nothing but the click of teeth when he snapped his jaw shut. After the third time this happened, Derek thought to hell with it, and started speaking.

“I was wrong,” he said.

“You, wait, what?” Stiles asked, looking genuinely confused.

“I know you’re not like her, I never should have made you think that,” Derek said.

Stiles’ eyes widened and he grabbed Derek’s arm, tugging him toward his apartment. “Oh my god no, come inside, no, no, no, no don’t you dare blame yourself for something that’s my fault.” Derek let the blabbing Stiles manhandle him into a kitchen chair. Stiles yanked another chair around and plopped down so he was facing Derek, their knees brushing. Tentatively, like he wasn’t sure of his welcome, he slide his hands to Derek’s knees, squeezing lighting when he didn’t pull away.

“Derek,” Stiles said. His voice was breaking. “I’m so sorry, god I am so sorry and I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again, but I hope that you do. Fuck, I screwed this up so badly, I shouldn’t be allowed near people as amazing as you.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m not. I never should have said…and I made you feel like-”

“No,” Stiles interrupted, flicking Derek’s nose like a disobedient puppy. “Derek Susana Hale.”

“Still not my middle name.” The familiar joke made him feel a little better, though.

“You’re a trauma survivor,” Stiles said, taking Derek’s hands in his own. “You’ve been through some seriously fucked up shit and I was selfish and took it personally, but it’s not about me. Well, something I did triggered you and that’s my fault. And then I blamed you! I’ve been a shitty, shitty boyfriend and I promise I’m going to spend all my time for the next, like, ever, proving to you that I can be the kind of mate you deserve.” When Derek continued to gape, Stiles leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “Derek, I am so sorry I hurt you.”

Derek closed his eyes and leaned into Stiles, at a total loss for what to say. Kate had always made everything his fault, be it hurt feelings or something small, like forgetting what time they were supposed to meet up, it was always on him. And Stiles, beautiful, amazing Stiles, trying to yank that off of his shoulders, taking responsibility for something Derek had automatically taken on.

Derek nuzzled Stiles’ temple and sighed, breathing in the sweet scent. “It’s hard,” Derek finally said. His voice was low, quiet even to his own ears. “I can’t help but believe sometimes, that good things don’t happen and I don’t deserve you. And that someday you’ll find someone better and be happier.”

Derek smelled the salt in the air before the fist of Stiles’ tears dropped onto his hands. Stiles slipped to the ground between Derek’s knees, tear silently running down his face. He cradled Stiles’ face in his hands, thumbing the tears from his cheekbones.

“Derek, I’ve never, okay, I need to make sure you’re listening to me, okay?” He pulled one of Derek’s hands down to his neck, pressing his fingers into his pulse point. “Check my heartbeat, okay? I will never not want you. I don’t care that you haven’t given me the mating bite yet, I am in this for life. Face it, Hale, you’re stuck with me. There is absolutely nothing you could do to make me love you less. I’m so sorry about what I said.”

Derek dropped to his knees, gathering Stiles in his arms and shoving his face into the smaller man’s neck. “I believe you,” he said, shocked to find that it was actually true. “We’re okay, Stiles. We’re all okay.”

Stiles let out a great shuddering breath and relaxed, all but boneless, into Derek. “I was so scared you were going to leave me,” Stiles confessed.

“No,” Derek said firmly. He nuzzled Stiles’ neck, reaffirming his scent. He stood, pulling Stiles to his feet as well, putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, making sure to keep unwavering eye contact. Stiles’ eyes were red and puffy, making Derek’s stomach clench.

“I didn’t realize just how badly you think of yourself,” Derek said slowly. “And I didn’t realize how much I do the same thing. We’re going to work on that, okay? I plan on showing you, every day until you’re hunched and grey if I have to, how fucking perfect you are.”

Stiles laughed through a sob, face splitting into a grin. “So, we both love each other, want to be together, and have self-confidence issues?”

Derek smiled back. “Something like that.”

Stiles nearly tackled Derek in his rush to kiss him. It wasn’t suave or tender, but clumsy and desperate, as if it was both of their first times. 

“Missed you so goddamn much,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips. “Is that pathetic? It was only a day, but I missed you so much. I know it’s impossible but I was scared I don’t smell like you anymore and no one would know I’m yours.”

Derek growled in response and bit down on Stiles’ collarbone, drawing out a gasp. “We can fix that,” he rumbled. He nuzzled Stiles, running his nose along Stiles’ jawline, only breaking contact to yank the other man’s shirt over his head.

Stiles already looked completely wrecked, pupils blown wide and a nice flush on his neck and collarbone from Derek’s stubble. Derek swelled with pride and pushed Stiles back until he was lying down on the couch, Derek kneeling between his legs. His fingers teased up the inside of Stiles’ knees, up his inner thighs until he was squirming under Derek’s hands, breath short.

“Der-ahh!” Stiles cut himself off with a moan as Derek laved his tongue over one of Stiles’ soft, puffy nipples, scraping his teeth over the tightening nub. Long fingers tangled in Derek’s hair, Stiles clutching him closer as he writhed under Derek’s ministrations.

“Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” Stiles whined, arching up into Derek’s touch. Derek just rumbled, biting down on one nipple and rolling the other between his fingers. Derek loved playing with Stiles’ nipples, the soft, sweet flesh hardening with each lick and flick of Derek’s tongue. It always made Stiles’ cock practically ooze precome, all sweet and delicious.

Stiles had been embarrassed at first, flushed red when his dick had jumped in Derek’s grip, but Derek’s eyes had flashed blue and he’d dived back down to Stiles’ chest, not stopping until those pink nipples were raw and sore, puffy from him mouth and hands.

And that’s exactly what he did now, mouthing and nipping until Stiles was crying out, sweet little nipples hard and swollen, obscenely sticking out on his chest. Derek’s erection was nearly painful, pressing against the front of his straining jeans. He rolled his hips, hard cock rubbing against Stiles’ thigh.

“Derek,” Stiles gasped. His hips jerked, seeking any kind of friction. “Derek, please…”

Groaning, Derek snaked a hand between them, making quick work of the fly of Stiles’ jeans, then his own. He grasped both of their cocks in one hand, nothing but Stiles’ precome to slick them but it was more than enough. High-pitched noises were falling from Stiles’ lips as he bucked into Derek’s fist. Derek knew it was going to be an embarrassingly short amount of time before he came, the sight and feel and smell of Stiles was entirely too much, but he was determined to get Stiles off first. He sped up his hand, thumbing that spot right underneath Stiles’ head where he was so sensitive, and that was it.

Stiles’ come coated Derek’s hand, his shout ringing out so loudly that Derek was sure everyone on the floor would hear it, hear how hard Derek made Stiles come, how well he took care of him. It was that knowledge that threw Derek over the edge, his come joining Stiles’ on his hand and belly. Shaking, he lowered himself to the couch, most of his weight off Stiles, absently rubbing his come-covered hand over Stiles’ stomach and chest while they got their breathing back.

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed out when his heartbeat started to steady. Derek just mumbled his agreement into Stiles’ neck. He smelled of contentment and _them_. It made Derek’s wolf sleepy and sated and he easily gave in, relaxing with his arms wrapped around Stiles.

“We should clean up,” Stiles said, though his tone made it clear he was as reluctant to move as Derek. Not bothering to open his eyes, Derek threw his arm off the side of the couch in search of one of their shirts. He gave Stiles a ridiculously minimal wipe down and tossed the shirt (Stiles’) aside. “Mkay,” Stiles muttered, sinking into the call of Derek’s warmth and sleep. “’t’s good.”

Derek smiled against Stiles’ skin.

-

Laura was nearly frantic. It didn’t matter how many cookies Stiles made her or what encouragements Derek gave, she was still a giant ball of nervous energy. Lydia helped somewhat, managing to distract Laura by dragging her out shopping for the perfect gallery opening dress. Stiles somehow ended up roped into going, too, because “I’ve seen your closet, Stiles. And don’t you dare start with me about coming out of the closet jokes.” Stiles had closed his mouth with a huff and gave in to Lydia, much to Derek’s amusement. At least until Stiles oh so casually mentioned that Derek only owned one pair of dress pants, then Lydia’s claws were in him and he was whisked away with them, too.

“Traitor,” he’d mumbled. Stiles just grinned, completely unapologetic. 

Turned out, he didn’t actually mind that much. Sure, being dragged to boutique after boutique got tedious quickly, but then Lydia shoved a pile of clothes into Stiles’ arms and manhandled him into a dressing room, throwing a smirk over her shoulder and telling Derek he’d thank her later. When Stiles came out of the dressing room a few minutes later, Derek understood why.

Stiles stood in front of Derek and Lydia where they sat on the ridiculously plush couch right outside the curtained entrance to the dressing room. He was in fitted black dress pants that made his long legs look lithe and graceful. The white button-up shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the play of the muscles of his forearms. 

But what really did it for Derek was the waistcoat; the gunmetal grey waistcoat that accentuated Stiles’ broad shoulders and slim waist in a way that made Derek’s throat dry and fangs itch to drop.

Stiles put his hands on his hips and glared at Lydia, completely unaware of what he was doing to Derek. Lydia smirked.

“I look completely ridiculous,” he said, tugging at the bottom on the waistcoat. Lydia leaned forward and slapped his hand away.

“Not the word I would use,” Lydia said, running appreciative eyes down Stiles’ form. “You’re definitely buying that.”

“Lydia. The pants are more than I pay for rent.”

Lydia waved him off like money way nothing, which, for her, Derek supposed it was. “No one said you’d be paying.”

“Lydia,” Stiles said, sounding pained. 

“You should know by now that listening to me isn’t optional,” she said, flipping her hair over a shoulder and jerking her head toward Derek with a small smile. “Besides, I’m not the only one who thinks it looks good.”

Stiles glanced at Derek and whatever he saw on his face made him blush. “Lydia,” Stiles said, still sounding on the edge of pain. “I thought you said you were staying for the weekend. It’s been two weeks.”

Laura’s annoyed voice called out for help with “this bullshit piece of crap-ass witchcraft” and Lydia rose, heading into the dressing room. “Yes, it has been,” Lydia said to Stiles before she disappeared in search of Laura.

Eyes locked on Derek, Stiles stepped forward until he was standing between Derek’s knees. Derek took a deep breath as he stared up at Stiles, moving his hands to his boyfriend’s waist like he was about to yank him down into his lap. The way Stiles’ eyes dilated and the stutter of his heart let Derek know that Stiles knew exactly what he was thinking.

Smirking, Stiles leaned over, lips brushing Derek’s ear as he whispered, “So, you’d be okay with ripping this off, shoving your big cock into me?”

Derek’s fingers tightened on Stiles’ hips and he fought to keep his claws from ripping into the fabric. Throat dry, he could do nothing but nod, his cheek brushing against Stiles’ while he nuzzled at Derek’s neck. Derek almost lost it when Stiles bent his knees, crouched down between Derek’s thighs, lightly resting his hands on Derek’s legs for balance as he looked up with that wicked smile.

“I can see it in your eyes, Derek. You’d love to flip me over right now, stuff me full of your cock and fuck me where anyone could walk by and see I’m yours, how well you take care of me,” Stiles said, voice low and rough. Derek’s skin was burning under Stiles’ palms and the front of his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

“Stiles,” he managed, voice strained. “Keep it up and I will. I will fucking wreck you right here.”

Stiles eyes were dark and he opened his mouth to answer when Lydia walked out from behind the curtained dressing room. She took one look at Stiles still squatting between Derek’s knees and yanked him up by the back of the neck. Derek growled slightly but Lydia just rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you growl at me, Cujo,” she said and pulled Stiles by the ear back to the fitting room. “You will absolutely not defile these clothes until after the gallery opening, Stiles Stilinski, or I swear to god, I’ll show Derek the Cabo pictures.”

Stiles visibly paled, letting Lydia shove him into the fitting room. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. Change. Now.”

Not five seconds later, she was sitting next to Derek on the couch, tapping away on her phone. “Cabo?” Derek couldn’t help but ask.

Lydia tittered and spoke without looking up. “A few of us went to Cabo last year. Stiles got spectacularly drunk and ended up naked and sunburned with paw print henna tattoos covering his back and ass.”

Derek choked on his laugh. “And of course, you kept evidence.”

“Of course.”

Derek spared a moment to be grateful that Lydia wasn’t an alpha werewolf.

-

Erica showed up when Laura, Stiles, and Derek were in the middle of lunch the day before Laura’s gallery opening. Derek was about to take a bite of pasta when the insistent knocking began, not stopping until he got up and flung the front door open. A high-pitched squeal was the only warning he had before Erica launched herself into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist. Derek staggered, managing to kick the door shut while spitting out a mouthful of blonde hair.

“Der-bear, I missed you!” Erica cried, scenting his neck.

He snorted. “Obviously.” She punched him in the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, we missed you, too.”

He glanced over his shoulder and his smile melted at the thin-lipped, clenched-jaw look on Stiles’ face. He hastily dropped Erica, grabbing her bag and leading her to the kitchen.

“Laura!” Erica said, hugging her, too. Derek caught Stiles’ eye and only received a raised eyebrow in return. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks,” Laura said. “It’s so good to see you. Stiles, this is Erica, she’s part of the pack we mentioned.”

“Hi,” Erica said with a bright smile. She reached out and shook Stiles’ hand. “Derek’s waxed enough poetics about your honey-sweet eyes that it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek, who absolutely did not blush. “Oh? Anything else he says?”

Erica’s grin goes wicked and she holds up Stiles’ hand, still gripped in hers. “I don’t know,” she said slyly and Derek knew he was going to want to kick her. “I’ve definitely heard about your fingers once or twice.” Stiles laughed and Derek launched himself at Erica, dragging her away from Stiles by a hand over her mouth.

“And that’s enough of Erica,” Derek said and pushed her toward the kitchen. “Go dish yourself up food if you want to do something useful with your mouth.” Stiles eyebrows flew up at that and Derek grimaced.

“Oh babe, there are better things I do with my mouth,” Erica said with a wink.

Stiles stiffened next to Derek and his scent soured. Derek reached over, taking Stiles’ hand and rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles. Some of Stiles’ muscles relaxed at that contact, but he remained tense throughout the rest of lunch, and it only got worse when the topic of babies came up.

Laura and Erica were lounging on the couch while Derek and Stiles were wrapped up together on the loveseat. There was a romcom on the TV, but it was on so low that it was nothing but background noise.

Erica laughed when Laura asked about Christina, the Hardwick alpha’s wife. “Still 125 pounds of crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “She just imported a beta from Florida for her daughter. Breeding,” she said to Stiles in answer to his confused look.

“The whole mudblood versus pureblood thing, right,” Stiles said.

Erica grinned. “Love it. She’s going to be Auntie Death Eater in my head from now on,” she said. Stiles’ returning smile was dim, but there. “But she’s also getting grandbaby fever. It’s very give-me-grandchildren-or-so-help-me.”

Laura snorted. “Some wolves go a little gene-crazy.”

“It’s that strong of a drive?” Stiles asked, his voice aimed for casually curious.

“It’s one of the most basic, primal instincts that gets amped up by our wolves,” Laura explained. “It’s not always true, but a lot of werewolves are driven by a really strong desire for pups. Usually it’s just someone’s own desire for children pumped up on wolf instincts to make it a big-ass need.”

“It doesn’t take over what we want,” Derek said, tracing the delicate bones in Stiles’ hands. “Just amplifies what we already want. If someone doesn’t want kids, they don’t suddenly change their mind during the full moon or anything like that.”

“So, you all want kids, er, pups? I know you do,” Stiles said, nudging Derek. 

Erica shrugged. “Not right now, but yeah, someday.”

Laura nodded. “It sounds kind of crude, but the desire to breed is really strong for wolves. To have a pup running around that’s part of you, your legacy to pass on, a pup to nurture…yeah, that’s something I want.”

Stiles nodded absently, eyes down and he burrowed a little closer into Derek’s side. He stayed curled next to Derek, unusually quiet and his scent unhappy, until Erica demanded they show her more of the city, refusing to accept no for an answer.

Derek was getting nervous. Most of the time, Stiles chatted animatedly with Laura, Derek, and Erica, laughing loudly and comparing stories, only to fall silent a few minutes later, hands twisting in front of him. The smell of anxiety spiked when they walked past Babies ‘R Us, so much so that Derek pulled Stiles to a stop, motioning for Erica and Laura to keep walking when they turned around in question. Laura shrugged and they kept going.

“Stiles,” Derek said, bumping his forehead into the other man’s. “You can tell me if something’s bothering you, you know that, right?”

Stiles sighed and nodded, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist. “I know. I just, I don’t know why I’m being bothered,” he mumbled. He nuzzled into Derek’s neck, subtly scenting him in a way that made Derek’s wolf rumble. “You know I can’t keep up with my brain sometimes. I’ll figure it out.”

Derek frowned. Stiles wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth, either. He hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking, but paranoia had been Derek’s forte the last few years. Between all the times Stiles had tensed and given off that curdled scent…

“Stiles, I hope you don’t…I’m not trying to pressure you into having kids,” Derek said. Stiles actually looked up at that, eyes round and surprised. His nose was red from the cold and they were in the middle of the darkening New York sidewalk, but all Derek could think of what how beautiful Stiles looked.

“You’re not,” Stiles insisted, squeezing his arms tighter around Derek. He kissed Derek’s nose, smiling slightly even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong.”

Even if Derek hadn’t been able to hear the blip in Stiles’ heartbeat, Derek would be able to see that he was lying. “Stiles…”

“Okay,” Stiles said, exhaling sharply. “I’m not mad or upset with you at all, okay? You can hear my heart, I’m telling the truth. I’m in one of my brain spirals, I really don’t know what I’m thinking or where it goes but I’m not mad. I don’t even know what my brain’s thinking but I promise as soon as I do, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said. He leaned forward, bumping his nose into Stiles’. “I don’t like not being able to help you. Makes me feel useless.”

“Not useless,” Stiles said, pressing a kiss to Derek’s lips. “You’re caring, loving, and the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” There was no lie in Stiles’ words. Derek hugged him just a little bit tighter. 

Stiles seemed better for the rest of the night. At dinner, he and Erica got into a very enthusiastic discussion about the new Thor being female (their opinions both seemed to be “hell-fucking-yes,” so Derek wasn’t entirely sure why there was so much yelling), then Laura, Erica, and Stiles spent the ten minutes between appetizers and entrees swapping as many embarrassing stories about Derek as they could. Laura won with a story about Derek believing Laura that his bunny teeth made him a wererabbit and he spent a whole month trying to escape his house to go live with his fluffy brethren. Stiles probably would have won but he had claimed “bedroom sanctuary” and refused to give details, much to the Hales’ relief and Erica’s disgust.

Stiles excused himself when they got back to the apartment building, his phone ringing in his pocket. “Scotty,” he said, shaking his phone at Derek. “I’ll come over in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, reeling Stiles in and kissing him deeply while Erica cooed in the background. Stiles looked a little dazed when he pulled back, a goofy smile on his face. Derek grinned and followed Laura and Erica into the apartment, leaving Stiles to talk to Scott.

As soon as the door was shut, Erica was on him. “Derek he is so fucking adorable! Oh my god!” she squealed, smacking him repeatedly in the shoulder. “I thought you just had cheesy, love-goggles on, but oh my god, he’s perfect. And a total dick, just like you!”

Derek couldn’t fight the smile that took over his face, which just thrilled Erica even more.

“Are you guys going to be matching tomorrow night?” Erica asked. “Oh my god, please tell me you have matching shirts.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat on the couch next to where Erica had sprawled. “We’re not three year olds getting family portraits, so no, we’re not matching.”

Erica kicked Derek in the thigh, shoving him off the couch and it was only thanks to Derek’s werewolf reflexes that he didn’t hit the ground. He glared up at her from his crouch but she just looked gleeful.

“Show me what you’ll be wearing!”

“No, you’ll see tomorrow. What does it matter?” Derek asked.

“Show me, Der-bear!”

“Better show her,” Laura said with a smirk. “I’d hate to have to alpha-voice you.”

Derek glared and stood with a huff. Laura had only used her alpha voice a handful of times. One was to get him out of danger, the rest of the times were all related to him getting her ice cream and Cheetos. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, walking to the front door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Erica asked.

“Suit’s over at Stiles’. He said they cost more than his rent and he wanted to feel rich,” Derek said, leaving the sound of Laura and Erica’s laughter behind as he stepped into the hall. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard his name from Stiles’ apartment.

“-of Laura and Derek’s wolfy friends.”

Right, Stiles’ call with Scott. Derek was about to walk in anyway as they both normally did, but something in Stiles’ voice made him pause.

“No, that’s the problem, Scott! She’s really nice and smart and gorgeous!” Stiles paused and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and pained. “She calls him Der-bear, Scott.”

Derek’s heart clenched at Stiles’ small voice. He’d never even thought to worry about Stiles’ actually feeling threatened by Erica, nothing beyond the small jealously they’d already discussed.

“No, I don’t. I _want_ to hate her, but she’s a sassy ass, and nerdy, and I am a horrible person for being jealous that she can jump into Derek’s arms and he didn’t even flinch. Derek growls if someone accidentally brushes him in the grocery store! It took me living next to him for almost a year before he was as comfortable with me as he is with her, and she did it in a few months.”

Derek couldn’t hear what Scott said, but whatever it was made Stiles sigh.

“I know. I love him, too. I’m being dumb, I know. Thanks for calling, man, it was good to talk to you.”

Derek’s hand was still on the door handle while Stiles said his goodbyes. His mind was more or less frozen. If she wanted to, Laura could have come out and doused him in wolfsbane-laced pudding and he wouldn’t have noticed. 

Stiles had never really shown any signs of true jealously before. Possessiveness, yes, but that was always in the bedroom or when he all but rolled in Derek’s clothes until they reeked of the both of them. Derek had made it very clear that Stiles was it for him. His mate, his future, and he had to talk to him.

Derek opened the door right when Stiles was setting his phone down, making him jump and fumble with it for a few seconds. Stiles’ eyes were wide, heart beating a little too fast, like someone very aware that they’d gotten caught.

“Hey, Derek, didn’t know you were there and, yep, you’re glaring, okay, so your werewolf hearing probably heard some of that, shit, are you pissed? You look pissed.”

“I’m not mad, Stiles,” Derek said, taking a few steps forward until he could take Stiles’ wrists in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the delicate skin. “What I am wondering is what I did wrong to make you think I want Erica as anything more than a friend?”

“Oh my god, no,” Stiles said, twisting his hands until they were clasping Derek’s. “Come on, Derek.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Derek asked, confused. “Stiles, I don’t understand.”

“She’s perfect!” Stiles exploded. “She’s perfect for you! Perfect she-wolf that can give you little wolf babies and a stronger pack and a FAMILY, which I can’t give you because I’m human, and a GUY! And she’s not even a bitch so it’s not like I can hate her and fuck, Derek, I can’t give that to you. I can’t, I – I…” Stiles’ breaths got shorter and his heart started tripping, the signs Derek knew well as the beginning of a panic attack. 

“Shh, Stiles, shh, just breathe for me, okay?” Derek said, forcing his voice to be calm. Stiles had only had two panic attacks around him, and both times had left Derek feeling absolutely gutted. He pulled one of Stiles’ hands over his own heart, letting Stiles feel the rhythm and match his breathing to Derek’s.

“I’m okay, shit, yeah, I’m okay,” Stiles said, shaking his head a bit, like he was trying to get water out from his ears. “I’m sorry, Derek. I just – I can’t give you everything you want. I can’t have your kids, I’m not a wolf, fuck, Derek, then I pick a stupid fight with you a few days ago. I’m a shit boyfriend and I’d be a shit mate, and I can’t help you expand your pack, or - ”

“Our pack,” Derek interrupted, squeezing Stiles’ hands. “Stiles, you’re a part of the pack, you’ve already helped expand it. And who said we wanted to expand anyway?”

“It’s like Laura said,” Stiles said, eyes focused on where their fingers were tangled together. “You can’t fight biology. Wolves wanting to reproduce, breed or whatever. And I can’t do that.”

Derek was too stunned to speak, or do much beyond stand there and clutch Stiles’ hands like an idiot in the middle of Stiles’ apartment. Stiles’ heart was beating alarmingly fast and he was still avoiding eye contact. Derek cleared his throat. 

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, but Stiles’ eyes remained down. Derek let go of one of Stiles’ hands to tip his chin up until he met Derek’s eyes. Derek’s heart wanted to break at the watery sheen covering Stiles’ eyes. “Stiles, I do want kids, yes. But I’m not a slave to my biology, I don’t want pups just because that’s what werewolves do. I want a family, and I want it with you. We could adopt, there are sometimes packs with orphaned pups they want to adopt out to other wolves, or if we really want it to be genetically ours, we can get a surrogate.”

Stiles stared at him, expression caught somewhere between hopeful, fond, and scared. “Really?” he asked, voice timid and so unlike Stiles.

“Real- yes, really! Stiles, before you, I never thought I could have a family or pups of my own. It wasn’t even something I’d let myself think about, but I want this, and I only want it with you, okay?” Derek pushed all the love and comfort he could through the partially-complete mating bond, willing Stiles to believe him. He cupped Stiles’ face, rubbing thumbs over his flushed cheeks. Stiles broke into a smile.

“Sappywolf,” he said softly and leaned into Derek’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “Sorry for freaking out. That self-confidence thing we talked about, yeah, I gotta work on that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Derek said, kissing Stiles’ nose. “Just stop believing you aren’t enough.”

“I keep causing problems,” Stile muttered, averting his eyes. Derek tilted his head up and kissed him sweetly, softly, and full of love.

“You’re not. We’re still figuring out how exactly we fit together. It’s not magically going to happen,” Derek said. “Now come on, Erica wants to see what we’re going to wear tomorrow night.”

Stiles groaned, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s. “I forgot about that. I think we should just show up in sweats. Oh, and wear your ribbed tank. I like you in that.”

Derek rolled his eyes and gave Stiles a gentle shove toward his bedroom. He could hear Stiles muttering about “stupid, unfairly hot werewolves,” a thud, and some muffled cursing before a few seconds later, Stiles hobbled out with two garment bags in his hand. He threw them at Derek when he was close enough and walked past him to the front door, glaring.

“Stub your toe again?” Derek asked.

“Shut up.”

Derek laughed as he followed Stiles out of his apartment and into the Hales’. His laughter faded at the sight of Erica on the couch, cross-legged and biting her lip, her leg bouncing and hands twisting and untwisting in her lap.

“Hey, we brought our – whoa,” Stiles said, cutting himself off. “Erica, are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said. She shifted a little and glanced at Derek before turning her attention to Stiles. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked. Derek didn’t like the hesitancy in her voice at all.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Stiles said. They both looked at Derek who just stood there for a few seconds before getting with the program. 

“I’ll just go and put these in the closet,” Derek said, shaking the garment bags. He retreated to his room to give them the illusion of privacy, though they all knew he’d be able to hear every word, even with Laura happily chatting on her phone in the room next to Derek’s. It was the thought that counted. He tried to tune them out but he could still easily hear the rustling sounds of movement and Stiles sinking onto the couch. In a very un-Stiles-like way, he seemed to be waiting for Erica to say something first, which actually took a few minutes.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” she blurted out. Derek could easily picture Stiles, wide-eyed and gaping.

“What? No, Erica, I – “ Thwap. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to hit you, sorry!” Derek snorted despite himself. “Why do you think I hate you?”

“You’re not quiet on the phone or when you talk to Derek, and the walls aren’t exactly thick, Stiles.”

Derek winced.

Stiles sighed. “I don’t hate you, Erica. I doubt I could even if I wanted to,” he said. “I was jealous and stupid and I swear, I’m a good person, really. I was insecure because you’re just so _awesome_ and a wolf and could give Derek everything I can’t and I kind of freaked out. But I’m really, really sorry. I know you’re a good person and important to Derek, and I’m just a squishy human.”

“Stiles,” Erica said, cutting off what Derek was sure was about to spiral into another rant of self-doubt. “I understand. It’s kinda my fault, too. I should have known that when meeting you, it probably wasn’t a good idea to jump your mate and rub my face all over his.”

Derek frowned. Well, when she put it like that…yeah, he could see Stiles’ point. As much as Stiles ran with wolves, he wasn’t raised or taught the culture and what was casual to them could definitely be seen as very intimate to humans. Derek felt like a grade-A asshole. 

“I know scenting is a werewolf thing,” Stiles said cautiously. 

Derek could practically hear Erica’s eye roll when she said, “Sweetie, if someone I never met flung themselves into my hypothetical mate’s arms and rubbed faces, I wouldn’t be too thrilled either, so, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. And I’m sorry for being stupidly jealous,” Stiles said.

“Accepted,” Erica said, then her voice grew devious. “Now you can give me details about that hickey necklace you’re sporting.”

Derek jumped up and all but ran out of his room to stop the conversation, but Laura beat him to it, yelling, “Oh my god, shut up before I wrap you in wolfsbane and throw you out the window!”

Erica and Stiles were laughing by the time Derek got to the living room, looking over their shoulders at him from their places on the couch.

Derek glared and pointed to Erica. “You are a menace and a bad influence,” he said, then turned to Stiles. “And you, get in the bedroom. I need to remind you that you’re mine and that’s not changing.”

The spicy smell of Stiles’ arousal spiked and he grinned at Derek, hopping over the back of the couch. “Right back at ya, big guy,” he said and seized Derek’s hand, tugging him toward the bedroom, followed by Erica’s wolf-whistle and Laura’s loud groan.

-

“You smell like you rolled in jizz,” Laura said the next night, scrunching up her nose. “You couldn’t have at least showered?”

“We did!” Stiles protested. “Twice!”

“You also blew me a second time,” Derek pointed out. Laura punched him in the shoulder, not caring that they were dressed up and in the middle of an art gallery.

“Ow!” Derek said, rubbing his arm. “Alpha strength, Laura, Christ.”

Lydia swooped in out of nowhere, tsking at them before Laura had the chance to reply. Her long, red hair was pulled into an elegant knot at the base of her skull and her short, emerald green dress hugged every curve of her body. Laura’s eyes traveled over her hungrily and yeah, Derek could see why. Lydia reached forward, adjusting the straps of Laura’s black and gold dress (“It shows off your eyes and skin tone. You’re wearing it.”), fingers brushing Laura’s collarbone. Next to Derek, Stiles turned his head and coughed loudly.

Lydia pulled back with an exaggerated eye roll and said, “Doors open in five minutes. Try not to hit, maim, fang out, ruin your clothes, or embarrass me in any way.” She pointed at Stiles and gave him a look so cold that Derek nearly flinched. “That means so sex in broom closets or bathrooms.”

“Would I do that?” Stiles asked innocently.

“Absolutely. I’d leave it up to Derek to keep you out of trouble but he seems to think you’re charming, for whatever reason,” Lydia said with a dismissive wave. She wrapped an arm around Laura and tugged her toward the front of the gallery. “Come on, it’s almost time.”

Laura, for all her alpha strength and confidence, looked vaguely ill. Derek squeezed her hand when she passed and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

“This is Laura’s fancy, artistic debut, so why does she look like she wants to be anywhere else in the world but here?” Stiles asked. “Seriously, she looks like she’d rather be in a Saw movie.”

Derek shrugged. “She’s never done anything like this before. She’s great at being an alpha, but this isn’t something she can take charge of. She can’t negotiate or control these people and their opinions of her work, work that is important to her,” Derek said. His eyes were fixed on the front of the gallery where Laura was chatting with Lydia, the gallery owner, and the first patrons. When he swung his eyes back, Stiles was looking at him with a soft smile.

“She’ll be great, puppy,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes at the nickname, even though they both knew there was no heat behind it. “She’s got Lydia on her side. Lydia could have convinced Einstein that relativity isn’t real and the world is flat.”

Derek snorted but didn’t disagree. “Come on, staring at her probably isn’t helping. We’re at an art exhibit, let’s be cultured and look at some art.”

Despite living with her for years, Derek had seen hardly any of Laura’s work. Sure, there were always half-finished works scattered around, but most of her finished paintings were leaned up against the wall in the spacious front room where she worked, and they always faced the wall. Laura was weirdly private about her art and Derek respected that, so when she did let him see a finished piece, he considered himself lucky.

Abstractly, Derek had known that Laura was good, but walking through the dimmed gallery, spotlights trained on the paintings, he realized he was so, so wrong. Laura wasn’t good, she was amazing. 

Toward the back of the gallery, Derek stopped in shock, staring at the painting in front of him like it wasn’t real. Stiles was still beside him, except to reach out and take his hand. Of course Stiles recognized it; he was from Beacon Hills, how could he not? The Hale house stared back at Derek from that canvas that was easily five feet wide. The house was painted in thirds, like stages of life. The first, the left third of the house, was idyllic and beautiful, almost exactly as Derek had remembered it, from the dark shutters and white window accents, to the porch, slightly off kilter thanks to his dad and Peter refusing to follow the instructions from the contractor they’d spoken with. If he looked close enough, he could see glowing wolf eyes between the trees behind the house. Red, gold, and blue.

The middle of the house was different. Tendrils of black, like their veins when they took pain, led from the perfect Hale house and transformed seamlessly to a decrepit, burnt husk. It was as if someone had sewn the charred remains of Derek’s nightmares to Derek’s childhood home. Even the sky above and ground below were dark, like day couldn’t exist in the same space as the home.

The burned wood faded into the last third of the house, morphing back into light siding. It wasn’t the Hale house of Derek’s childhood, not exactly. The chimney was gone, which Derek heartily approved of, having had quite enough of fire. The paint was slightly darker and the trim was a different color. Near the bottom of the foundation, blended almost dark enough that even Derek couldn’t see, were little symbols. Protection runes, he realized. Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand tighter and Derek realized he hadn’t breathed for too long.

He took a gasping breath, trying to get himself under control, when he felt someone walk up. Stiles tensed on Derek’s other side as he too noticed the intruder. Derek could immediately smell what Stiles couldn’t, though: werewolf. The other man, fit and middle-aged with light brown hair, wasn’t looking at them, though. He was staring straight ahead, gaze sweeping appreciatively over the painting.

“Marvelous work,” the man said, never taking his eyes off the canvas. There was something about the man’s voice, the British lilt, gave Derek a strange sense of déjà vu, though for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where he’d heard it before. “It’s very impressive, the way she captured the essence of life and pain.” He seemed to take Derek and Stiles’ silence as interest, and continued speaking. 

“We start with the perfect, unrealistically remembered childhood home, perfect and beautiful in our memories, before slipping into the dark and dramatic, the absolute worst nightmare of all, and finally settle here, with the new. It’s less picturesque and serene, but more realistic.” He raised his hand, moving it in front of each phase of the painting as he spoke. “Life, death, and rebirth, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Quite poetic, don’t you agree, Derek?”

“Who are you?” Derek asked, finally finding his voice, but the other werewolf continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“When I heard the daughter of the great Talia Hale had an exhibit, I couldn’t bear the thought of not attending.”

“Who are you?” Derek growled out again as he fought to not let out his fangs and claws.

The man finally turned to face Derek and Stiles, letting his eyes flash. Red. Alpha. Derek turned, trying to subtly move Stiles behind him. The man snorted. “Relax, boy, you have nothing to fear from me. I’m sure you don’t remember, you were so young, but I used to visit your dear mother, along with other alphas, for advice and gatherings. I am Deucalion.”

The name vaguely rang a bell for Derek, but not enough to form a clear memory. He still kept Stiles behind him. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I am just here for the art,” Deucalion said mildly. “Your mother was a dear friend of mine. I deeply regret what happened.”

“Don’t we all,” Stiles said, shoving his way from behind Derek. “But not enough to help Derek and Laura after, right?”

Derek hissed Stiles’ name but Deucalion merely inclined his head in acquiescence. “You are correct. It was a mistake on my part, and apologies will mean nothing so I say only this; you have the support and friendship of my pack, whatever your need may be.”

Deucalion held his arm out and after a few seconds of shock, Derek grasped the other man’s forearm as he grasped Derek’s, a werewolf’s sign of respect and greeting.

“Thank you,” Derek said.

Deucalion inclined his head again and said, “A word of advice. I would complete the mating bond sooner rather than later if I were you. It’ll be much safer for him.” Derek clenched his jaw and nodded tersely. Deucalion just smiled. “If you’re excuse me, I will peruse for a while. Your sister truly is remarkably talented.”

Derek’s eyes flicked to the painting as Deucalion walked away. Yeah, she was.

Stiles waited until Deucalion was a respectable distance away before turning to Derek and hissing, “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Derek answered, still a little dazed.

“No, seriously, what the fuck? What is everyone’s obsession with us and mating?”

“I really don’t know,” Derek said. He ran one hand through his hair and tugged Stiles closer into his side with the other. There’d been no lie from Deucalion, but a surprise confrontation with an alpha, especially with Stiles there, put Derek on edge.

“Do you think he talked to Laura?” Stiles asked. “Should we tell her?”

“No,” Derek said. “If he has, she’d have found us. We’ll tell her after and not ruin her night.”

“Softie,” Stiles said fondly and rested his temple on Derek’s shoulder. His hands shot out and snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Derek. “Then let’s do what normal pretentious art fans do. Drink and mingle.”

Derek snorted but let Stiles lead him around the gallery by his hand, making sure to maintain physical contact at all times. If Stiles noticed that Derek always had an arm around his shoulders, or hand on his waist, he didn’t mention it. They didn’t see Deucalion again and after an hour or so, Derek could tell he had left. Stiles noticed when Derek slumped, the tension bleeding away. He ran a hand through Derek’s hair and kissed his cheek.

“You good?” Stiles asked quietly.

Derek smiled down at Stiles in that fond and soft way that was specifically reserved for him. Derek gathered him in his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of Stiles’ head and murmured, “Perfect.”

Stiles was grinning like a loon when he pulled away and brought his champagne to his lips to hide it. Two seconds later, Lydia was next to them, looking pristine.

“Are you enjoying yourselves?” Lydia asked, eyeing Stiles’ glass of champagne.

“It’s my first one,” Stiles said defensively. “I’m not going to get trashed.”

“Remember, no sex in the gallery,” Lydia said sternly.

“Actually, you said no broom closets or bathrooms, so…”

“I will strangle you,” Lydia hissed, but Stiles’ just rolled his eyes, a stupid move, in Derek’s opinion.

“Guuys!” Erica’s voice cut in. She appeared a second later, a drink in both of her hands and a mischievous grin on her face. Derek took a whiff and wrinkled his nose.

“I guess we’re not the ones you should have been worried about getting off in closets,” Stiles said, pushing the strap of Erica’s slinky dress back onto her shoulder. He motioned to her chin and said, “You have some lipstick.”

Erica shrugged, completely unashamed. “I have a weekend free from overbearing alpha wives and you can bet your ass I’m going to use it.” She passed one of the champagne glasses to Derek, giggling. “It’s special,” she said with an exaggerated wink. He carefully sniffed and coughed at the subtle hint of wolfsbane.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked.

“Walmart.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Stiles asked, eyeing the tipsy Erica.

“Wolfsbane-infused alcohol,” Derek murmured while Lydia eyed the glass curiously. “Specific strain that being mixed makes it non-toxic.”

“So what you’re telling me,” Stiles said slowly, “is that there’s a way for werewolves to get drunk and you never told me? Oh my god, drink up right now!”

“Stiles, Deucalion-”

“Is long gone! Oh my god, I need to see this.”

Derek sighed and took a sip, shooting Erica a glare. She wasn’t fazed in the slightest. The wolfsbane gave the champagne a burn going down that it didn’t normally have, but he refused to give Erica and Stiles the satisfaction of him coughing. Looking at their matching grins, Derek wanted to punch himself in the nose for introducing them.

-

By the time he’d finished his third flute, Derek was pleasantly buzzed, not falling-down drunk, but a little lighter on the inhibitions than usual. That was the only reason he let Stiles drag him down the hallway leading to the bathrooms, only to be shoved against the wall so Stiles could delve into the mouth with his tongue. Yeah, the only reason.

“Laura’s going to kill us,” Derek groaned as Stiles palmed his dick through his pants.

“Laura’s always going to kill us,” Stiles said. One hand was stroking Derek’s hard cock as best as he could through the fabric of his dress pants, the other hand grasping the wall, feeling for the handle for the door marked ‘Custodian’. His hand wrapped around the doorknob and it swung open, bringing them face to face with Laura and Lydia, lips swollen, both out of breath. Derek and Stiles gaped, completely frozen as Laura and Lydia untangled themselves, faces slightly flushed but defiant.

Stile recovered first, crying out, “You said no making out in the closet!”

“We said no making out for _you_ in the closet,” Laura said. Lydia wiped a bit of lipstick off Laura’s chin before straightening her hair with a smug face, completely unperturbed that Stiles and Derek just walked in on her sucking Laura’s tongue.

“He right, though. A closet is nothing compared to that nice, soft bed you have at home,” Lydia said, mock-considering. “The gallery closes in five minutes.” She gave Laura and wink and brushed past Stiles and Derek, pausing just long enough to say, “You two should probably stay at Stiles’ tonight,” before walking back to the main floor, probably to politely hurry the remaining patrons along.

Laura just stood dazed for a moment before coming to her senses and punching Derek in the shoulder, hard.

“Why are you always hitting me?” Derek asked, rubbing his arm where there was still a bit of the bruise from earlier.

“For thinking it was a good idea not to tell me that Deucalion was here,” she said, turning to Stiles, who jumped behind Derek with his hands in the air.

“Squishy human, do not harm!” he said. Laura just rolled her eyes. “Hey, how’d you even know he was here?”

“Alpha hearing, dumbass,” Laura said. “And he talked to me. That was kind of a dead giveaway.” She walked past them, flicking the back of Stiles’ head on the way by. “Don’t forget Erica, she’s around here somewhere.”

“Follow the smell of sex-crazed hormones,” Stiles muttered to Derek. “Try not to get them confused with your sister’s.”

“I hate you.”

-

They eventually did find Erica with the same guy Derek had smelled on her earlier. She didn’t smell drunk, the wolfsbane champagne long burned out of her system, and had a wicked grin on her face. The man looked completely stunned when Erica pulled away, his pupils blown wide and lips swollen. There was an imprint of Erica’s teeth on his neck surrounded by a ring of dark red lipstick. She patted him on the cheek before pulling away and sauntering over to Derek and Stiles.

“See ya, babydoll,” she said with a wink. Derek turned to follow Erica and Stiles, taking a second to glance back at the guy who still looked like he’d been hit by a freight train. Derek shook his head, snorting to himself. Blown over by Hurricane Erica. She had no shame and Derek liked that about her. She was utterly irreverent and now that he wasn’t under the foot of her alpha’s crazy wife, she was actually able to be herself. Derek felt strangely proud. Stiles cooed and called him a softiewolf when he told him later that night after they crawled into bed and Erica crashed on Stiles’ couch.

“Shut up,” Derek said, pinching Stiles’ sides, then slapping a hand over his mouth when Stiles shrieked. 

“No, really,” Stiles said, yanking Derek’s hand away. “It’s sweet. You’re an amazingly caring man underneath this gruff, frowny exterior. And I’m stupid lucky to have you on lock.”

Derek snorted and pulled Stiles to him, kissing him deeply. Stiles moaned and worked a hand between them, running fingers down Derek’s torso before dipping under the waistband of his boxer briefs. Derek heard a noise from next door and froze, right when Stiles got a hand around him. Stiles tensed, pulling back.

“Derek? Are you okay?” Stiles asked. He was propped up on his elbow, staring down at Derek with worried eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I-” Derek cut himself off, flopping back on the mattress with a groan. From his apartment came the unmistaken moans and, oh god, wet, squelching noises. “I hate Laura, she’s ruining my life.”

Stiles’ look of concern melted to confusion. “What?”

“She and Lydia are…” Derek winced to a moan of Lydia’s name. “They’re doing stuff.”

Stiles was silent for a beat, then exploded in laughter, hard enough that tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes. He pounded his fist into the mattress, whole body shaking.

“Oh my god! I guess that’s fair, she’s had to deal with us enough times,” Stiles managed to say through his gasps.

Derek glared, wishing that werewolf-strength earplugs existed. “I hate you,” he said.

“Lies, you love me,” Stiles said, leaning in to kiss Derek. His hand drifted lower again, toward Derek’s waistband, but Derek’s slapped his hand away.

“I can’t do it to the sound of my sister having sex!” Derek said, scandalized.

Stiles laughed again, burying his giggles into Derek’s chest. Derek shoved a pillow over his head in a vain attempt to block out the noise and halfway hoped it would smother him. Stiles curled around him, giggles subsiding, and kissed his chest. He reeked on contentment and Derek couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face. 

-

It was quiet with Erica gone and while Derek missed having her around, he was happy for the mellow down time. Not that he got much. Stiles was a hurricane of activity now that “It is officially the holiday season, Derek. Get it together!”

Derek and Laura never really celebrated Thanksgiving, or as Laura called it, Indigenous Genocide Day, but apparently Stiles did. Laura gave him shit about it until Stiles quietly said that it had been his mom’s favorite holiday. Laura had shut up really fast after that and immediately helped Stiles plan. Not that Stiles really celebrated like the average person.

He insisted on a feast of Chinese food, deviled eggs, and a Native American cleansing and memorial ritual that his mom had learned from a Native friend of hers. The incense and sage made Derek’s nose itch but neither he nor Laura said anything. This was something Derek would never want to ruin.

Stiles had invited Erica, but she’d had to stay with her pack for what she called “bullshit bonding time.”

“Why’s she even part of their pack if she’s so unhappy?” Stiles asked.

“Pack bonds and politics are complicated,” Derek said. “I don’t know how to explain it besides almost binding loyalty. They are ties that can be broken, but it’s not easy.”

Stiles frowned. “That sounds kind of abusive, man.”

“Sometimes it is,” Derek said sadly. “Even if she weren’t my sister, I’d be lucky to have Laura. Not all alphas are nearly as fair and kind. They see it as weakness and fear a beta will challenge them for it.”

All in all, Derek actually enjoyed himself. He, Laura, and Stiles ate with Scott via Skype. Stiles’ dad was working, so he didn’t make an appearance. Derek wasn’t sure if he was happy about that or not. On the one hand, he wanted to make a good impression on Stiles’ father (who’d been informed by his son that he was dating “the hottest werewolf ever”) and generally Derek didn’t seem friendly through Skype or the phone. On the other hand, seeing the Sheriff after all those years and being reintroduced as Stiles’ werewolf boyfriend sounded terrifying in person.

After Scott ended their Skype call, Laura, Derek, and Stiles retreated to the Hales’ living room, all in food comas. Laura had the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special playing softly while they chatted. Stiles was humming softly, sprawled on the couch with his head in Derek’s lap with Derek’s fingers running through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Laura’s attention was on her phone. Derek assumed she was texting Lydia, who had left a few weeks prior.

Derek tugged on Stiles’ hair lightly to get his attention, taking advantage of Laura’s distraction to have a semi-private discussion with Stiles. Stiles twisted his head to look up at Derek, eyebrows raised.

“I have a question,” Derek said.

“I probably have a slightly rudely worded answer,” Stiles said. He used his elbow to gently nudge Derek in the stomach. “What’s up?”

Derek cleared his throat and started talking before his nerves got the best of him. “Laura and I are thinking of going back to Beacon Hills for a bit around Christmas,” he said. Laura stilled on the loveseat but didn’t look up from her phone. “We were hoping to go when you did. We wouldn’t pull you away from your dad or anything, it would just be a lot easier for us to have pack close by. Is that okay with you?”

“Is – of course that’s okay! I’d love if you were there. You can stay with us, we have a guest room. Only if you want to, you guys don’t have to, obviously. And you can meet my dad and Scott!” Stiles said excitedly. Derek grinned down at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. Stiles’ smile flickered a bit, then he asked, “Is that going to be a problem? Meeting another werewolf that’s technically in your territory?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Derek said. “We do need to check the area, though.”

“Why?”

“I’ve neglected it,” Laura said, done pretending to not hear them. “It’s our family – our _pack’s_ \- land. And it’s our job to take care of it and protect it and make sure it’s safe for everyone around it. I’ve been ignoring its call like a pansy.”

“And it’d actually help if I were there?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. “You’re pack.”

“But not like, officially yet, right?” Stiles asked. “There’s a ceremony or a chicken to be sacrificed to make it official, right?”

“I think your mind is still on Thanksgiving,” Laura said. “But there is a ritual and a submission thing before it’s technically official.”

“Okay, let’s do it,” Stiles said.

Laura looked at him blankly. “Do what?”

“Wolf mojo, pack member magic, bond me oh alpha, my alpha,” Stiles said, sitting up from where he was lying in Derek’s lap.

“This isn’t something you do in a crappy apartment living room that smells like Chinese food and paint,” Laura said.

“Okay, so where?”

“You’re sure you want this?” Laura asked. “Like Derek said, pack ties are hard to break.”

“I’m sure,” Stiles said firmly. “I even talked to Scott about it to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Derek’s eyebrows rose at that. “What’d he say?”

“He said it’ll be weird for me to smell like other wolves but he trusts me when I say you’re good people. He says he likes it that I’m so happy.”

Derek’s heart fluttered at that. Laura was actually beaming and it hit Derek what this was to her; this was her first pack member to come to her, besides the random omegas that just wanted protection. This was more, Stiles wanted to be _pack_. He didn’t want to be here out of familial obligation or preexisting ties. Stiles was there because he wanted to be.

“The preserve,” Laura said. “The ceremony should be done in the preserve. It’s Hale pack land, it has power.

“All right, settled. We’ll do Christmas, eggnog, and werewolf rituals,” Stiles said, clapping his hands together with a grin. “Nothing like the good ol’ fashioned holiday season.”

“We should probably let Scott know that we’re coming,” Derek said. 

“Is that, like, werewolf manners?” Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. “Sort of. If we were going into an established pack’s land, it’s customary to request permission. But it’s technically still our territory so we don’t have to.”

“But Derek’s right, we should,” Laura said. “No wolf likes smelling another wolf in its territory.”

“Looks like another Skype date with Scott.”

-

Scott took the news of the Hales’ visit worse than Derek had hoped, but better than he’d expected. Scott seemed torn about how to feel. He was “stoked” to meet Stiles’ boyfriend (“soon-to-be mate, Scott!”) but also a little uncomfortable at the idea of Derek and Laura coming to Beacon Hills.

“It’s your wolf’s instincts,” Derek explained over Skype when Scott had voiced his confusion, head tilted to the side like a curious puppy. “Beacon Hills is your home. The idea of another wolf coming makes your wolf wary and see us as potential threats. Maybe a threat to your relationship with Stiles.”

“But it’s your home, too!” Scott protested. “And I know Stiles is my bro, I want him happy!”

“I know,” Derek said with a small smile. “Sometimes instincts and intellectual knowledge clash.”

Scott frowned a bit before shrugging. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll talk to Allison, Isaac, and Boyd.”

Derek’s stomach dropped. He’d been so focused on Scott and the sheriff that he’s completely forgotten about the Argent presence in Beacon Hills. Luckily, Stiles was easily able to keep the conversation going until he finally said goodbye to Scott. As soon as he shut the laptop, Stiles climbed into Derek’s lap, shoving his face into the werewolf’s throat and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, lips moving against Derek’s skin.

“How do you always know?” Derek asked, arms circling Stiles’ waist. He rubbed his cheek against the top of Stiles’ head.

“I know you,” Stiles said simply. “Allison isn’t her aunt, and Chris is…a decent man. They don’t have contact with Kate anymore, either.”

Derek pulled back, startled. “You told them about Kate?”

“No! No, that’s not my story to tell,” Stiles said. “I just asked Allison if her aunt was planning any visits. She was really confused about how I knew about her but she said they cut ties with her and her grandfather years ago.”

Derek studied Stiles’ face for a moment before yanking him in and kissing him hard. It was all tongue and teeth for a few minutes before they pulled back, breathless and grinning.

“What was that for?” Stiles asked, panting a bit.

“For caring enough to ask,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his hand against Stiles’ cheek. “For even thinking to ask.”

Stiles’ face softened into a look that Derek had only ever seen aimed at him, and it never failed to warm his insides.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you deserve to be loved before you believe me?” Stiles asked.

“I believe you,” Derek said. “You just always amaze me, is all.”

“Such a sap, puppy.”

Derek just shrugged. It wasn’t like he could argue that.

-

If Derek thought Stiles was a whirlwind leading up to Thanksgiving, Stiles around Christmas was a damn extinction level event. He blew through Derek and Laura’s apartment in the first week of December armed with boxes of decorations. The first thing he did was string lights everywhere, making sure each was plugged into a surge protector.

“Fire safety,” Stiles said when Derek asked.

Next came the tree. It was short, only four feet tall, and absolutely covered in ornaments and tinsel. Derek had had to leave for work in the middle of the manic decorating and when he got home, it was to windows covered with fake frost, baubles hanging from the ceiling by clear strings, and a huge, glittering banner pinned over the fireplace that said MERRY HIGHJACKED PAGAN WINTER SOLSTICE! Laura was humming to herself in the living room with her sketchbook, completely unperturbed by Stiles’ handiwork.

“You know, usually when someone opens a door, they come inside,” Laura said, craning her neck around to look at Derek and yeah, he’d been standing in the doorway for the last thirty seconds taking in the decorations. He shook his head and did as Laura asked, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes.

“Is Stiles gonna be here for dinner?” Laura asked.

“No,” Derek said. “He’s coming over later, though.”

“Damn, I was going to get him to make enchiladas,” Laura said with a pout. 

Derek snorted. “Well you can have him over if you want.”

“Where will you be?” Laura asked.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Cane,” Derek said.

Laura tilted her head to the side. “It’s not your usual day. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, aiming for a casual voice and knowing he failed spectacularly. “Just wanted to get a session in before we go to Beacon Hills.”

“We don’t go back for a couple weeks,” Laura reminded him gently. 

Derek shrugged. “Just in case. I’m fine, Laura,” he promised.

Taking him at face value, god bless Laura, she turned around and went back to her sketching. Derek peeked over her shoulder and choked on a laugh when he saw what she was drawing. It was Stiles, wearing a Santa hat, reindeer slippers, and with Christmas lights wrapped around his body. He was posed like he was about to trip. Laura grinned.

“Like it? I was thinking of giving it to Sheriff Stilinski when we go.”

“He’d probably love it,” Derek said. Which was true, from everything he’d heard from Scott and Stiles, the sheriff loved his son more than life itself. 

Stiles, and meeting Stiles’ dad, were topics he discussed with Dr. Cane later than afternoon, but he could tell she knew there was something else on his mind. She waited him out, like she always did, while giving him a slight nudge in the right direction.

“What worries you most about going back to Beacon Hills?” she asked. “I have a feeling it’s not just meeting Stiles’ father.”

“There are other wolves, Stiles’ friends,” Derek said, then paused. They both knew that wasn’t why he requested an extra session. “It’s the first time we’ll be back in Beacon Hills in twelve years. Since the fire.” Dr. Cane just nodded politely, waiting for him to continue. “I’m not…I don’t feel guilty exactly, but I’m worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“About going back and forgetting them, like it never happened.”

“Derek,” she said. “Moving forward isn’t the same as forgetting. Tell me, you said Stiles lost his mother, yes?”

“Yes,” Derek said.

“Is he selfish for being happy?”

“No,” Derek said.

Dr. Cane smiled slightly. “Why’s that?”

“Stiles is so…he deserves to be happy, he should be. It’d kill me if he was in pain for his whole life,” Derek said.

“Do you think he might say the same about you?” Dr. Cane asked.

“Yes,” Derek mumbled.

“Tell me more about your trip. What are you going to do?”

“We’re staying with Stiles at his dad’s, the sheriff, which Laura thinks is going to be hysterical,” Derek said with a headshake. “We’re going to meet with the other werewolves Stiles is friends with. Laura wants to talk with Chris Argent.” His jaw ticked at the name. “We’re going to make sure the family, and the pack land, is safe.” 

“So what you’re doing is honoring your family by visiting the Hale territory,” Dr. Cane said. “The fact that you’re worried about this enough to speak with me shows on its own that you aren’t forgetting them. I’m right in assuming that you still think of them often?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, thinking of the lily he’d seen the other day that his little cousin Madison would have loved. “It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

Dr. Cane smiled like he had said something clever and said, “Exactly. Being happy isn’t the same as forgetting them, just like building a new pack isn’t disrespecting them.”

Derek eyes snapped up to Dr. Cane’s calm, serene face and wondered for the umpteenth time if she was some kind of psychic.

-

Derek and Laura bought three first class tickets to Beacon Hills. With the last minute ticket costs, it was outrageously expensive and Stiles was beyond annoyed that Derek and Laura wouldn’t take any money from him. He tried to stuff it in Laura’s purse but the next day, he found the wad of cash taped to the ceiling above his bed. Derek told him to accept the ticket as a Christmas gift or he was withdrawing blowjobs. Stiles agreed pretty quickly after that.

Derek was expecting Stiles’ usual amount of holiday insane enthusiasm once they boarded the plane, but instead he was strangely silent, the smell of nervousness radiating off of him. The closer they got to take off, the worse it got. When the flight attendant got to the part of the safety briefing about what to do in case of a crash, Stiles actually physically spasmed. 

Derek took Stiles’ hand in his own, running his thumb over the knuckles. “How’d you get to New York if you’re afraid of flying?” Derek asked.

“I never said I was scared of flying. Oh fuck!” Stiles squeaked when the plane jerked and started rolling forward. He clutched Derek’s hand so hard that it started to go numb.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “What’d you do last time you were on a plane?”

“Valium,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. “Lots and lots of Valium. If humans were meant to fly, we would have grown wings.”

Laura snorted behind them and Stiles flipped her off between the seats. Derek yanked Stiles’ hand down before the mother and daughter in the next aisle over could see, and laced their fingers together.

By the time they were in the air, Stiles’ nails had drawn blood from Derek’s hands on four separate occasions. Derek grimaced but didn’t say anything, just murmured reassuring words until the plane leveled out and the grip on his hand relaxed. Stiles let out a harsh breath and slumped into Derek’s side. 

“You okay?” Derek asked, placing a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head.

“Mmhmm,” Stiles said, hiding his face in Derek’s shirt. “Lots easier with you here.”

Derek preened a bit at that, ignoring Laura’s whisper of, “Sappy little shit,” too low for Stiles to hear.

Stiles spent the majority of the flight huddled into Derek’s side except for when he made a mad dash to the bathroom and back.

“I didn’t even make a mile high club joke,” Stiles said, shaking his head when he was once again buckled into his seat.

He let Derek read to him for a bit, but made him shut up when they were going to land. Derek just held his hand through the landing. As soon as they landed, Stiles was back to being chipper as hell, all but skipping to baggage claim and the rental car desk, chattering away while Laura signed the paperwork. Stiles’ dad had offered to pick them up, but Laura had politely declined, both her and Derek being more comfortable with their own transportation, just in case.

The airport was a good hour outside of Beacon Hills and the closer they got to the town, the gladder Derek was that Laura was driving instead of him. Fear was pooling low in his stomach, fear of Stiles’ father thinking he wasn’t good enough for his son, fear of problems with Beacon Hills’ new wolves, and overwhelming, crushing fear of the memories.

He must have been projecting loud enough for Laura and Stiles to pick up through the pack bond because Laura reached over and grabbed his knee, squeezing, and Stiles’ arms wrapped around Derek from the backseat.

“Put your seatbelt back on,” Derek said, trying to pry Stiles’ arms off of him, but unable to do so without hurting him.

“Nope,” Stiles said, leaning over the back of the seat to hook his chin over Derek’s shoulder. “Laura will just have to make sure she doesn’t drive off the road.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t move her hand from Derek’s knee. Stiles’ even breaths on the skin of his neck and the way he rubbed his cheek against Derek’s calmed Derek, knowing that even when Stiles was in his own hometown, soon to be surround by friends and family and other wolves, he still wanted to lay claim to Derek.

Derek hummed and nudged his head against Stiles’, twisting around to kiss him. “Thanks,” Derek mumbled. Stiles smiled brilliantly, ducking in to kiss Derek on the cheek. “Now, put your seatbelt back on.”

Stiles snorted but did what Derek asked, sitting back. He quiet long enough for Derek to begin to be suspicious. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Stiles.

**_From: Stiles (1:06 pm)_  
Everything will be fine**

Derek smiled despite himself. He was about to respond when another text from Stiles came through. This time, it was a picture of Stiles spread out on Derek’s bed, wearing nothing but one of Derek’s shirts, fingers buried deep in his ass. 

It looked like Stiles had propped his phone up on Derek’s dresser to take the picture, because he could see beautifully where Stiles’ fingers disappeared into his red, puffy rim. Lust spiked through him and he suddenly couldn’t wait until they were in Beacon Hills where he can get his hands on, and in, Stiles. 

Laura gagged and rolled down her window, all but sticking her head out of the window to get away from the stink of their combined arousal. “Seriously, you guys are disgusting,” she said.

Stiles laughed. “You look like a golden retriever with its head stuck out the window.”

Laura sent him a flat look in the rearview mirror. “I thought I put a moratorium on dog jokes.”

“I thought it was werewolf politeness to ignore bodily functions?” Stiles replied cheekily. 

“And who in this car would call you polite?” Laura asked.

Derek snorted. Just like that, Stiles had broken through Derek’s gut-wrenching fear. He relaxed back into his seat, not even realizing how tensely he’d been holding himself until he let it go. A surge of happiness and affection surged through the bond from Stiles, warming Derek. Laura rolled her eyes dramatically but Derek could see the slight quirk of her lips.

The drive into Beacon Hills was strange. The town in his memory was just different enough from the real Beacon Hills to give Derek a touch of cognitive dissonance. The landmarks like the hospital and sheriff’s station, which Stiles pointed out, were all the same, but there were small changes that stood out. The dead end at the corner of Market Street and 1st Avenue now went all the way through. The high school was now grey instead of white. There was now an adult store where a corner mart used to be. Stile wiggled his eyebrows at that.

“Derek,” Laura said, pointing. He followed her gaze to Snappy’s, a little ice cream shop complete with round picnic tables adorned with brightly colored umbrellas. Derek’s breath caught. He turned back to Laura, who gave him a watery smile. He felt like an ass. He’d been so worried about coming back that he hadn’t even thought much about how it would affect Laura.

“What is it?” Stiles asked tentatively, like he was afraid he was intruding. As far as Derek was concerned, there was no such thing anymore.

“My mom used to take us to Snappy’s every Thursday,” Derek said. “Cora, our little sister, got a different flavor every time, even the weird ones they made like lavender.”

“And Derek always go vanilla black pepper,” Laura said. “The weirdo.”

“Maybe you could go while you’re here?” Stiles suggested.

“We all should,” Derek corrected.

Stiles’ answering smile was blinding.

-

Derek’s nerves came back in full force when they pulled into the Stilinski driveway. There wasn’t a squad car in the driveway, thankfully, so they managed to get their luggage inside without needing to talk to the sheriff. Stiles directed Laura to the guest bedroom, which smelled a little like mothballs, before leading Derek to Stiles’ old bedroom. 

Walking in the door of Stiles’ room was like being punched in the face with the scent of Stiles. It was a little stale because of how long Stiles had been away, but it was impossible to erase the years of sweat, spunk, and the overall smell of Stiles. 

“Jack off a lot as a teenager?” Derek asked before he could stop himself.

“What?” Stiles asked with wide eyes, dropping his suitcase on his foot.

Derek motioned around the room with a smirk. “Some scents don’t exactly fade right away.”

Stiles groaned, covering his face with his hands and flopping back onto the bed. “Oh my god, I hate you so much.”

“Lie,” Derek said, sitting on the bed next to Stiles. “Plus, I never said I didn’t like it.”

Stiles peeked at him through his fingers, pulling his hands away all together when he realized Derek wasn’t joking. He leered up at Derek and yanked him down to the mattress, rolling them until he was straddling Derek.

“We could add to that smell,” Stiles said, punctuating his words by rolling his hips.

Derek groaned and moved his hand to Stiles’ hips, stilling his movements. “Stiles, we can’t…”

“Oh, we very much can,” Stiles said, leaning down to kiss Derek.

“Stiles!” Derek gasped, breaking away from the kiss. “Stiles, your dad could be home any minute. I’m not meeting him for the first time with his son’s dick in my mouth.”

Stiles burst into laughter, bracing himself on Derek’s chest as he shook. “You’re afraid of my dad?”

“He carries a gun,” Derek said flatly.

“You’re a werewolf!”

“That doesn’t make a bullet hurt any less.”

“He wouldn’t shoot you,” Stiles said with an eye roll while he climbed off Derek. “He doesn’t carry wolfsbane bullets in his service pistol anyway.”

“He has wolfsbane bullets?!”

-

There was less than an hour until the sheriff was off, so Stiles ushered Derek and Laura into the kitchen to help him make dinner.

“I’ve had Ms. McCall and the deputies at the station keep an eye on his diet, but he’s a sneaky little shit, so I’m sure he’s been sneaking burgers or something,” Stiles said, checking on Derek, who was in charge of the wild rice.

“So what are we making?” Laura asked. She’d be relegated to setting the table because, as Stiles said, she was so bad at cooking that she’d manage to fuck up Eggo waffles (“That was one time, and it was a new toaster!”).

“Grilled chicken curry,” Stiles said, moving back to the stove. “And he will love it, so help me.”

Derek was staring at the rice so intently that he completely missed the sound of a car pulling into the driveway until Laura said, “Hey, I think your dad’s home, Stiles.”

Stiles jumped, taking the pan off the burner and grabbing Derek by the hand. “Perfect timing, come on!”

Stiles dragged Derek into the foyer by the hand, an amused Laura trailing behind them. As soon as the front door opened, Stiles dropped Derek’s hand and launched himself at his dad, crushing the other man in a hug so tight that Derek was listening for creaking bones. The sheriff hugged right back, squeezing his son tightly.

When they finally pulled apart, Stiles turned to the Hales with a huge smile. “Dad, I’m sure you remember them, oh wise one, but this is Laura,” Stiles said, pointing, “and this is Derek.” Stiles wormed his way under Derek’s arm, wrapping his own around Derek’s waist.

The sheriff reached out and shook Laura’s hand, then Derek’s, not even doing the intimidating hand squeeze thing that men tend to do. 

“It’s good to see you kids again,” the sheriff said. “I’m glad it’s under better circumstances.”

Laura smiled back, only a little bit of sadness peeking through. “Thank you for opening your house to us, Sheriff. We greatly appreciate it,” Laura said with a slight nod of her head. Derek was a bit surprised; she was using a greeting similar to one she would use for another alpha.

“John,” the sheriff, _John_ , corrected, and smiled.

“John,” Laura said. “My brother Derek here is ridiculously in love with your son.”

Derek flushed bright red, but reached forward and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Sir,” he said, meeting John’s eyes which he was grateful to find were amused.

“Nice to meet you, Derek. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve got to admit, I was wary of Stiles dating a werewolf at first, but from everything Scott and Stiles have told me, you’ve been amazing for him,” John said.

Derek raised his eyebrows, completely taken aback, but also very pleased. “Thank you, sir.”

“John,” he said again. Derek nodded, still flushed.

“Well, Daddio, dinner is pretty much done, so I hope you’re ready to eat,” Stiles said.

“Always. That damn salad Parrish forced down my throat didn’t really do much,” John said.

“It did wonders for you cholesterol, though,” Stiles said in a sing-song voice.

-

Dinner wasn’t nearly as awkward as Derek thought it might be. He’d been expecting something along the lines of John very purposefully cleaning his gun, but the man had been nothing but accommodating. He’d chatted with Laura about her art, telling her that Stiles had sent a few pictures to his phone and that he was impressed. Laura actually blushed, looking rather proud. 

Derek felt a pang in his chest for his sister. She’d had to be strong for him, to be not only the sister but to be the parent when they didn’t have any. Now here was a parental figure, his mate’s father, treating just like a father would.

Stiles slipped his hand into Derek’s, picking up on Derek’s emotion but unsure of the cause. Derek met Stiles’ questioning expression with a small smile and a hand squeeze, hoping Stiles knew Derek meant he was okay.

There was an awkward moment when John casually asked about the sleeping arrangements, but Stiles basically steamrolled right over him, saying, “As I am 24 years old, Derek and I will be staying in my room, Laura has the guest room.” John just shook his head, amused. “You were screwing with me,” Stiles said flatly.

“Damn right, kid,” John said.

Stiles grumbled all the way up the stairs to his room.

-

“I’m not having sex with you with your dad across the hall.”

“Come on, we’ll be quiet!”

“You’re physically incapable of being quiet.”

“Rude!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“…Shut up.”

-

Derek woke up, like he did most mornings, hopelessly tangled with Stiles. Somehow, despite his werewolf strength, Stiles’ long limbs tended to trap him in the bed like he was being cuddled by an enthusiastic squid.

It was early, earlier than he’d normally get up, but he never slept very long in a new place, even if he intellectually knew it was safe. Laura’s heartbeat was steady with sleep, just like Stiles’ and his father’s.

Derek eased out from under Stiles, carefully disentangling himself and got out of bed. His suitcase was near the bed and it took almost no time to change into his workout clothes and pull on his running shoes. Derek scribbled out a note to let Stiles know where he went, kissed him on the forehead, and climbed out of the bedroom window, landing gracefully on the grass below. He was sure Stiles would give him shit for that later, but Derek didn’t have a key to the Stilinski house and would rather not leave it unlocked while he ran.

It was a little strange to be running without Stiles, especially through the streets of the town where he’d been born, but he soon lost himself in the rhythmic pounding of cement beneath his feet. His wolf was overjoyed to be running in what he recognized as Hale territory. Derek committed as much as possible to memory but the town had changed so much that it was nearly impossible.

He lost track of how long and far he’d been running until he found himself at the edge of the preserve, drawn in by the Hale territory’s pull. Slowing to a stop, Derek reached out with all of his senses, letting the sounds and scents of the woods rush over him. It was like the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. It was so much better than the Hardwick’s woods, this was _home_ , the smell and feeling he’d completely forgotten until that moment.

Derek was moving before he registered telling his body to do so, weaving through the trees like water flowing through a canyon, all grace and pure instinct. This wasn’t a contained morning jog; this was wild, wolf instinct.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, not really, but ten minutes later found Derek halting right outside of the clearing that surrounded the Hale house. The first few steps were cautious, like he half expected Kate and the hunters to come flying out of the front door, but a deep breath had him moving forward. Ash was the first smell that hit him, ash and charred wood, but beneath that was still the smell that had him all but rushing inside.

The house was pretty much the same as when he and Laura left, albeit with a little more wildlife. Enough of the house was intact that he could go upstairs and explore what was left of the bedrooms. His own room was more or less destroyed, which he couldn’t care less about, honestly, but a few doors down were rooms that had belonged to his siblings and cousins. Laura’s was a lost cause, being right next door to Derek’s, but the rest were relatively untouched other than smoke damage.

Derek only hesitated for a moment, then opened the door to the room that was shared by his little sisters, Cora and Amelia. He was able to block out the stink of charred wood better than before and focused on the faint scent of his sisters that was still present, unable to be erased even by the years. He’d forgotten how they’d smelled, how all the pack had smelled. 

There was stuffed frog tangled in the covers of Cora’s bed, something Derek had given her for her fifth birthday, something she’d loved so much that she’d slept with it until she was twelve, the year she’d died. Derek buried his face in the toy’s fur, breathing in the scent of his younger sister and allowed himself to cry, to try to expel the grief and work on simply remembering.

Derek lost track of time for a bit, but eventually he was able to leave Cora and Amelia’s room. He made his way through the other rooms, picking items up here and there, something he and Laura had been unable to do before fleeing the state twelve years ago. He almost lost it again when he entered his parents’ room, but he managed to pull it together. The bed was still made, though badly burned, like they were going to walk in at any minute and get ready for bed. This was where his parents would read to them before they went to bed, where they all piled together during thunder storms, where he and his siblings would crawl in if they had nightmares.

Stiles and Dr. Cane had been right, his family would be pretty annoyed if he spent the rest of his life grieving. 

-

The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, making the sky a brilliant orange and pink, by the time Derek rounded the corner to Stiles’ street. The wind shifted and suddenly the smell of another wolf, an unfamiliar wolf, hit him like a cannonball. _Stiles._

Derek took off down the road, not caring that if anyone that was up this early saw the burst of wolf speed or his glowing blue eyes. When Stiles’ house came into view, Derek’s heart nearly flew out of his chest. There was a figure standing in the shadows of Stiles’ front door, right under Stiles’ window.

Derek let out a growl and launched himself at the other wolf, claws out. The two of them crashed together in full beta shifts, clawing and snarling at each other. The other wolf wasn’t trained, wasn’t experienced like Derek, his swipes wide and sloppy, but he somehow managed to tear his teeth into the meat of Derek’s shoulder. Derek howled in pain and threw the other beta off, satisfied with the crack that echoed when the other wolf hit the tree. Derek was ready to charge the other wolf before he could get up, but movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Derek, stop!”

It was Stiles, panic in his voice that made Derek’s wolf whine in distress.

“Derek, Scott, stop!” Stiles said. He ran around Derek before the wolf could react, throwing himself between Derek and Scott with his arms wide.

 _Scott, Stiles’ friend Scott_. Derek forced the wolf down, rational mind clawing to the surface at Stiles’ words, his distress. _Scott, Stiles’ friend, not an enemy,_ Derek thought, over and over. He straightened from his crouch, pulling the shift back.

“Stiles,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

“Yeah, big guy,” Stiles said, reaching out to rub his thumb over the nape of Derek’s neck. Derek relaxed, closing his eyes in both comfort and embarrassment. “Well this isn’t quite how I hoped this would go,” Stiles said, laughing awkwardly. Derek opened his eyes, grimacing. “But, Derek, this is my best bro, Scott. Scott, this is, like, the love of my life, Derek. So if you guys could not kill each other, that’d be pretty great.”

Derek couldn’t even preen at the praise, too busy flushing with embarrassment. Scott sheepishly kicked at the ground, looking more like a scolded puppy than the fanged werewolf he’d been moments before.

“Hi, I didn’t know it was you, I swear, ” Scott said, stepping forward slowly with one hand palm-up to show he meant no harm and the other in front of Derek to shake. Derek had the urge to flinch away from the other wolf. He shook Scott’s hand.

“Hello,” Derek said, pushing down his wolf’s instincts to yank Stiles behind him and growl, but he was an adult werewolf, damn it, and he knew how to act like one.

Scott breathed out a heavy laugh, letting go of Derek’s hand. He rubbed a hand through his hair, grimacing. “Man, this is so weird,” Scott said. “I mean, I know you, we’ve talked. I like you! But I also kind of want to tear off your arm.”

Stiles groaned but Derek actually smiled a bit. “It’s okay, it’s a wolf thing. Your wolf sees me as an interloper in your home and around your family. It isn’t sure how to react,” he said.

“But it’s your home, too!” Scott said, brows furrowing in confusion and Derek actually felt a small swell of affection for the other wolf.

“Instincts,” Derek replied with a shrug.

“Not that this isn’t touching,” Stiles said through gritted teeth, “but can we maybe move this little werewolf party inside before my nosy-ass neighbor calls 9-1-1 about the snarling dog fight in my front yard? Oh, don’t give me that look,” Stiles said, pointing at Derek and Scott when they glared. “You’re the ones that got all snarly. Get your asses inside.”

Derek glanced over Stiles’ shoulder to see a short, older woman trying to peer out through the curtains. Derek was grateful for the tree conveniently placed right by Stiles’ window.

“Did you hear those strays?” Stiles called over to his neighbor, smiling. “Sounded like two mutts really going at each other huh?” The woman glared and put her curtains back in place.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles ushered them inside, giving each a swift kick to the ass when they walked through the door, then pointed to the kitchen table, silently demanding that they both sit.

“So, are we done with the whole macho werewolf crap?” Stiles asked, hands on his hips. Derek and Stiles nodded, both still looking a bit sheepish. “Good,” Stiles said, instantly brightening. “Then, breakfast.” He turned around and started rummaging through the fridge when Derek realized Laura’s heartbeat wasn’t in the house.

“Where’s Laura?” Derek asked. He’d have assumed she’d be outside the second he’d started throwing Scott around, but her heartbeat wasn’t anywhere nearby. 

“She left a note saying she had last minute Christmas shopping to do,” Stiles said, pointing to a piece of paper on the counter.

“It’s 8:00 am,” Derek said. Stiles just shrugged.

“So…” Scott said, drawing Derek’s attention. “You still okay with meeting Boyd, Isaac, and me?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I kind of tried to chew your arm off,” Scott said with a grimace, probably still dealing with the taste of Derek’s blood in his mouth.

Derek snorted. “You aren’t the first.”

“Truth,” Stiles said, leaning over to kiss Derek before going back to the stove. “Though when I talked about chewing his face off, I usually mean it in a different context.”

“I hate you,” Scott said with a groan.

-

Laura ended up traipsing back to the house a little past lunch time, smacking Stiles’ hand away when he tried to peek into her bags.

“So, what have you lovelies been up to today?” Laura asked, collapsing on top and Stiles and Derek where they curled on the couch, watching a movie. Derek shoved her off and she landed on the cushion on the other side of Stiles.

“Well, Derek tried to kill my best friend,” Stiles said conversationally, yelping when Derek pinched him on the arm.

“Tattler,” Derek muttered, wincing a little when Laura turned sharp eyes on him.

“Derek did what now?” Laura asked, voice dangerous.

“Scott was creeping under my window like a creepy creeper wolf, and my big strong Derek here smelled him and came flying in to save me,” Stiles said.

“Are you okay? Did you murder Scott?” Laura asked, leaning over to check Derek for any injuries that would have long since healed.

“Squishing the human,” Stiles grumbled, voice muffled from being smothered by Laura’s chest. She pulled back but was still frowning.

“I’m fine, Scott’s fine, we’re still set to meet with him and the others tonight,” Derek said.

“Really?” Laura asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah,” Derek said with a shrug. “He wasn’t mad, just confused.”

Laura let out a relieved breath. “We’re lucky he wasn’t an alpha or a born wolf or part of an established pack,” she said. “That could have gone so badly.”

Derek shrunk in on himself, ashamed to have disappointed his alpha. Stiles shot Laura a dirty look and took Derek’s hand in his, stroking a thumb over the bigger man’s knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, tilting his head to expose his neck to his alpha. Laura sighed and reached across Stiles to squeeze the back of Derek’s neck in acceptance of the apology. Stiles still looked unhappy, like he wanted Laura to apologize to Derek for snapping, but Derek knew she wouldn’t. While she was his sister and understood his need to protect his mate, she was also his alpha, and sometimes she needed to step further into that role than usual, especially when it came to pack security.

“So tonight, are we still set for the preserve at 9:00?”

“Actually, Scott was wondering if we could meet at the 24 hour diner on 9th?” Stiles asked. “He thought the woods seemed a little like serial killer, body-burying status.”

Laura laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. Do the others have enough control to not shift if we say something they don’t like?” 

Stiles bristled a little. “They’ve been wolves for like, almost ten years,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, they’ll be fine.”

“That works for me then,” Laura said, hopping up from the couch. She pressed a kiss to the top of Derek’s head and said, “I’m not mad, okay? I just want you safe.”

Derek nodded and Laura smiled slightly. She grabbed her shopping bags and walked toward the stairs. “Now don’t bother me, I’m wrapping presents.”

Stiles perked up at that but Derek put a hand on his knee, holding him in place. “Don’t even try it,” he said. “She’d probably break your wrist for trying. She is super picky about that.”

“Damn straight!” Laura called.

“There’s something else we could do,” Stiles said, crawling onto Derek’s lap with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?” Derek said. He slid his hands up Stiles’ thighs, squeezing his legs. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well my dad’s on shift for the next six hours. Laura is otherwise occupied, and my bedroom is right upstairs.” Stiles punctuated his words with a lick up the side of Derek’s neck, drawing out a moan.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was breathy and he wasn’t even entirely sure what he was asking for, but Stiles just kissed him.

“Come on, Derek. You can’t tell me you don’t want to fuck me in my old room, get your scent and come all over me,” Stiles whispered, grinding down onto Derek’s lap.

Derek growled, eyes flashing blue and hands tightening on Stiles’ thighs. “You have ten seconds to get upstairs,” Derek said, voice rumbling, “before I throw you down and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my name.”

Sties’ breath caught and he scrambled out of the living room and up the stairs, somehow managing to not trip. Derek’s wolf was howling to _chase, mate, fuck,_ and he couldn’t wait the ten seconds. Seven seconds passed before Derek was done. He launched himself off the couch and up the stairs, making it into Stiles’ room when the other man was peeling his shirt off.

Stiles made a noise of surprise when Derek yanked him around, pressing Stiles against the bedroom door. Derek all but attacked Stiles’ mouth, biting kisses and swallowing Stiles’ moans.

“Bed, bed now,” Stiles gasped against Derek’s lips. 

“No, here,” Derek rumbled and sank to his knees.

Stiles groaned. “You’re going to give me an aneurysm, I swear,” he said, eyes hooded as he watched Derek pop the button on his jeans and drag the pants down Stiles’ thighs, his hard dick finally free. Derek didn’t answer, merely gave Stiles’ cock a long lick before swallowing him down.

Stiles keened, grabbing Derek’s shoulders for support. Derek loved Stiles’ dick. It was average in thickness, but damn, that length and slight curve felt amazing when it slid inside, the perfect angle to graze his prostate. The thought made Derek groan around Stiles’ cock, loving the way it slid down his throat. Stiles hissed, fisting a hand in Derek’s hair.

“Derek, shit,” Stiles whimpered. “I need to fuck you right now.” 

Derek hummed around Stiles’ dick before standing up and yanking him in for a kiss. “How do you want me?” he breathed.

“On your back,” Stiles said, voice still a little shaky. “I want to see your face.”

Derek wished he could go back in time and high-five his teenage self and tell him it won’t always be masturbation. He nodded and pulled his shirt over his head, gratified that after six months together, he still made Stiles’ breath catch.

They stripped quickly, clothes flying everywhere and then Stiles was finally on top of Derek, grinding their hard dicks together. Stiles reached down, fishing under the bed until he triumphantly popped up with a mostly empty bottle of lube. Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles flushed.

“I was a horny, perpetually single teenager, okay? It’s not like I had many options,” Stiles said, somewhat defensively.

Derek ran his hands up Stiles’ thighs soothingly. “I didn’t meant that, just imagining you in here, fisting your cock over and over…” Derek said. A predatory grin spread across his face. “Does that mean you’ve never been with another person in here? Never fucked anyone but yourself?”

Stiles shook his head and leaned over to whisper in Derek’s ear, “You’ll be the first. And the last.”

Derek growled and rolled them so fast that Stiles actually looked a little dazed, but recovered fast, very on board with being straddled by Derek.

Derek grabbed the lube and wasted no time slicking up two fingers and trailing them back, rubbing a bit at his perineum before circling his hole. He’d fingered himself earlier in the shower, so it was nothing to shove two fingers inside himself, groaning at the slight stretch.

Stiles’ mouth was parted, eyes glued to where Derek was stretching himself open, his fingernails digging into Derek’s strong, hairy thighs. A whimper escaped past his lips when Derek slid in a third, then a fourth finger.

“Fuck, Derek you look so good like this, all stretched out and gorgeous.”

And yeah, Derek needed Stiles’ cock in him. He pulled his fingers out with an obscene squelch and lined himself up, the head of Stiles’ dick just brushing his hole. Stiles bucked up but Derek pressed down on his hips, keeping him in place while Derek teased him, rubbing back and forth over Stiles’ leaking cock.

“Derek,” Stiles whined. “You’re the poweriest power bottom to ever bottom, fuck come on – ah!”

Stiles’ words were cut off by Derek dropping down, taking Stiles’ whole length at once. There was a slight burn but mostly Derek was overwhelmed from being so wonderfully full. It took a second for him to be able to breathe, but as soon as he recovered, he was moving his hips, bouncing on Stiles’ cock at the perfect angle and damn, he wasn’t going to last long.

Derek dropped forward, pressing his forehead to Stiles’, caging the other man in with a forearm on either side of his head. Pleasure was tingling through his limbs, making him cry out. He muffed his groan in Stiles’ neck as his orgasm seized him, ass squeezing around Stiles’ cock. Stiles made a strangled noise and sunk his teeth into Derek’s shoulder as he came, dick pumping Derek full of come.

Derek collapsed to the side, mindful of not squishing Stiles and sighed softly at the sensation of Stiles’ come seeping from his abused hole. Stiles cuddled up to Derek’s side, nuzzling against his shoulder.

“Scott’s gonna be so grossed out when he smells us later.”


	2. Chapter 2

Usually, Derek would say, without reservation, that Stiles was the anxious one in their relationship. His brain didn’t seem to remember that little fact as the pulled up to the Boxcar Diner that night. Adrenaline was pumping through him and it took every bit of his self-control to not bounce his leg like Stiles. Of course, while Derek was having his mini freak out, Stiles was happy as a clam, hopping out of the rental car with only a slight whiff of nervousness.

They were early, climbing out of the car at 8:30 instead of 9:00, but Scott was already inside, visible through the diner’s large front window. He was seated at the very back table with his back to the wall (which was Derek’s preferred place to sit) with two other men, one of either side, looking like the most bizarre triple date.

Laura walked in first with her head held high, all power and grace, but Stiles didn’t give a fuck about pack formality and all but elbowed Laura out of the way, making a beeline for his friends and almost knocking the poor waitress over in the process. Derek apologized to her, then followed with Laura, standing a little awkwardly while Stiles hugged Scott and fist-bumped the curly-haired boy that Derek was pretty sure was Isaac.

“Dude,” Scott said, pulling back and wrinkling his nose. “You couldn’t have showered?”

Stiles cackled. “Eau de Werewolf, my friend.” Stiles turned to the Hales and pointed to each in turn. “Laura and Derek,” he said, then turned back. “This is Scott, Derek’s already met him, but he’s my best bro for life. The silent muscle mass on his left is Boyd and Isaac is the curly cherub on the right.”

The dark-skinned man, Boyd, just nodded at both of them, eyes carefully running over every inch of Derek and Laura, as if categorizing every bit of them. The one named Isaac had an angelic-looking face and said hello with a small smile but something in the way he looked at them made it clear that he wasn’t nearly as innocent as one would think at first glance. Stiles was right, it was clear they’d all had to grow up way too quickly.

“Laura Hale,” Laura said, reaching out to shake each of their hands. Scott looked surprised but pleased, Boyd’s face gave nothing away, and Isaac smirked. Derek offered his hand, too, then he, Laura, and Stiles took their seats on the other side of the table. 

The waitress who Stiles had almost run over came over, looking a little wary of Stiles, and took their orders. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the sheer amount of food they ordered, making Derek think this was a regular spot for hungry werewolves.

“So, you wanted to meet?” Scott said, jumping right in when the waitress walked away. “Any reason why?”

“Some wolves get jumpy when it comes to what they view as their territory, which I think you and Derek noticed earlier,” Laura said. Even though her tone was mild, Derek still felt a stab of shame, but across the table, Isaac snorted out a laugh and thumped a sheepish Scott on the back. Boyd had a small smirk on his face.

“Yeah, sorry about that again,” Scott said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “But I mean what I said. This is your home, too. I don’t see it as territory or whatever, I’m trying to get the other part of me to see it that way, too.”

“Well, I do,” Isaac said, angelic face twisting a bit. “We’ve been dealing with dark druids and kanimas and all kinds of murderous geriatrics –“ Stiles flinched a little at that and Derek made a mental note to ask about it later. “-since we were sixteen, and you guys want to waltz in here talking about territory.”

“Isaac,” Scott said.

“No, it’s okay, I’d feel the same if I were him,” Laura said. She put her elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “You’re not a born wolf and not part of a traditional pack so I know it’s different for you. Beacon Hills is Hale Pack land, it always has been and even when the last Hale is dead and buried, it will still be Hale land.”

Boyd frowned and Isaac looked like he was about to interrupt but Laura kept going.

“That’s not a cut against you or me trying to make this a pissing contest, it’s a kind of mystical, werewolf tie,” she said. 

“Weird bonding magic mumbo jumbo,” Stiles said when Isaac didn’t look convinced. “It just basically means the Hales are like, magnetized to Beacon Hills and super werewolf magic makes the physical land recognize their pack.”

Laura opened her mouth to speak, but Derek nudged her right before the waitress came within earshot. She set everyone’s food down, seemingly unbothered by the silence, checked that they were good, then walked away.

“Why didn’t you come back before?” Derek almost didn’t realize it was Boyd that asked the question, assuming he just wasn’t the type to speak much. “It’s been years, why didn’t you ever come back?”

Laura sighed but refused to lower her eyes from Boyd’s challenging gaze. “I was scared.”

“We were scared,” Derek corrected. Laura shot him a tight smile and nodded.

“Hunters led by Kate Argent,” Laura spat the name, “burned our house to the ground with our family trapped inside. So yeah, we were a bit reticent to come back.”

Isaac looked down, cowed, but Boyd cocked his head to the side and asked, “Argent? As in…”

“As in Allison’s aunt,” Scott said wearily. “Yeah.”

Boyd was still frowning but it was less angry and more contemplative. 

“We aren’t here to start a pissing contest,” Laura reiterated. “We’re here to spend Christmas with Stiles and visit our old home, that’s it.”

“So you’re not moving back?” Scott asked.

“We have no plans to,” Laura hedged and Derek fought to keep his surprise off his face. Stiles didn’t bother, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, I’m not going to be a dick and try to say something stupid like you can’t stay,” Scott said with a shrug. “I just wanted to make sure we all know who everyone is so no one freaks out if they run into someone.”

“It’s smart of you to do so,” Laura said. “Derek’s already spoken to Scott, but if any of you have any werewolf-related questions, we’re both here and happy to answer.”

“Thanks,” Scott said. He pushed his empty plate away. “Well I need to get Mom’s dinner to the hospital, so I’m out. It was nice to meet you.” Scott fist-bumped Stiles on the way out. Boyd followed, clapping Stiles on the shoulder as he passed. Derek was surprised that Isaac was still seated across from them. Gone was the arrogance he’d shown earlier, in its place was a lost-looking kid and Derek’s heart ached for him. 

Laura looked at Isaac patiently, a small, kind smile on her face and Derek was struck dumb by how much she reminded him of their mother. Stiles reached under the table and linked his fingers with Derek’s. Once again, Derek felt a surge of gratitude that Stiles was able to read him so well.

“You can ask whatever, Isaac, she doesn’t bite. Even if she did, it’s not like it’d do much now anyway,” Stiles said.

Isaac rolled his eyes but Stiles’ joke broke some of his reluctance, so Derek took it as a win.

“I was just wondering what it was like to be part of a pack with an alpha?” he asked. His eyes were trained on Laura’s left ear instead of on her face and she ducked to meet his gaze, still smiling.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about asking, Isaac. It’s not a betrayal of your friends to be curious,” Laura said. “It’s kind of different for Derek and me, since it was just the two of us for so long and honestly, I haven’t been the best alpha.” Derek made a protesting noise but Laura threw a napkin at him. “Shut up and listen to your alpha.”

Isaac actually cracked a smile at that.

“I can tell you what it was like when my mother was our alpha,” Laura said softly and Derek sat up a little straighter, fingers tightening around Stiles’. “Most of our pack was family, not all of it, but it didn’t matter. It was like having a huge, close knit family that would do anything for you, even if you don’t necessarily like that person.” Laura glanced at Derek for his input.

“There’s a pack bond that sounds a little out there, but it’s like a direct link between pack members,” Derek said. “If I tried, I could feel Stiles and Laura, what they’re feeling, if they’re close.”

“It’s like having your pack in your soul,” Laura said. Derek half expected Stiles to snort or roll his eyes, but he just nodded in understanding, even though he didn’t have the full effect of the bond yet.

Isaac looked at them a little longingly but his voice was solid when he thanked Laura and stood to leave. She stopped him with a hand on his arm and an apologetic look when he flinched (Derek was glad Stiles told him that Isaac’s father was dead, or the sheriff might have ended up arresting Derek for assault).

Laura handed over her number and demanded Isaac call her if he ever need anything. “I mean it,” she said. “Even if it’s 3:00 am and you want to know more about moon cycles, got it?”

Isaac looked startled but accepted it with a tentative smile and Derek was shocked that this was the same person he’d met at the beginning of the night.

After they’d paid and headed back to the car, Stiles popped his head between Derek and Laura’s seats from the back, smiling nervously.

“Sooo?” Stiles asked. “Hate them?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes, Stiles, I hate your best friend that I’ve already met.”

“You could have changed your mind!”

“I didn’t, now sit back and put your seatbelt on,” Derek said.

Stiles scowled but did what Derek said.

“They’re fine, Stiles,” Laura said. “They’re young wolves and have been through a lot. You’re all impressive.”

Stiles preened and relaxed back into his seat, satisfied. “I’m stoked. As fun as mediating fights between you guys would be, this is better. Hey! Pull into the Safeway up ahead, I need to grab food for my dad’s lunch or he’ll sneak in burgers,” Stiles said.

Laura obliged and Stiles hopped out, telling them he’d be back in two minutes, and darted inside.

Laura turned to Derek, looking him in that creepy way she did that made him feel like she was seeing all the way down to his bone marrow.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Laura said with a shrug. “Just wondering what you’re thinking.”

“About Stiles’ ass,” Derek deadpanned. Laura reached across the console and smacked his arm.

“Dick. You know what I mean,” she said with a nose wrinkle.

Derek shrugged. “It’s different, but it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be,” Derek said. “It feels good, it feels like coming home, I-”

Derek froze, stopping midsentence when a smell drifted in through the cracked window. It was familiar, similar to something…he wasn’t sure what, but it was putting him on edge.

Stepping out the car, Derek sniffed the air, glancing around the parking lot, ignoring Laura’s repeated questions. Stiles was coming out of the store, chatting animatedly with a dark-haired girl when Derek located the source of the scent. A middle-aged man two cars away met Derek’s gaze with his ice blue eyes and Derek’s wolf went wild. Argent.

Derek let his eyes flash and a second later, Argent had a gun out at his side, hidden from the other shoppers’ view by his pant leg and his car. Laura was out of the car and at Derek’s side in an instant with a hand on his shoulder, her body tense.

“Derek!” Stiles called.

From the corner of Derek’s eye, he could see Stiles running toward him, the brunette at his side with her hand resting on something in her coat. A sub-vocal growl escaped from Derek when Stiles skidded to a stop in front of him, throwing himself between the Hales and Argent. The girl, another Argent, Derek noted, stood tall next to Stiles, eyes darting between the two groups.

“Derek, it’s Chris Argent, okay, he’s an ally,” Stiles said calmly. Derek still wanted to yank Stiles behind him and away from the hunters. The brunette with a killer jawline turned to put her hands in front of her, palms up to show she meant no harm.

“My name’s Allison,” she said, her voice soft and kind. Nothing like Kate’s had been. “I’m not my aunt, I’ll never be her. And I am so, so sorry for what she did to you.”

Chris Argent slowly put his gun back in his hidden holster in his jacket. “We follow the code, we aren’t your enemies, and we don’t mean harm,” he said.

Laura stepped forward, edging in front of Derek, though he really wished she wouldn’t. She may have been the alpha, but those protective sibling instincts ran deep.

“We’re here for the holidays,” Laura said, using her diplomatic alpha voice. “We’ve done nothing to warrant hunters’ attention, just as you’ve done nothing to attract ours.”

Chris Argent’s eyebrows rose at the vague threat. “Are you implying that werewolves have authority over hunters?” he asked.

“Dad,” Allison said.

“Just like you believe you have authority over us?” Derek snapped.

“I’m not implying anything,” Laura said over Derek. She took a step closer to Chris, red bleeding into her eyes. “I’m telling you. If I ever see your psychotic sister, who raped my little brother and burned my family alive, I’m taking her head, and thanks to your eye-for-an-eye code, you can’t do shit about it.”’

Chris stared at her, then nodded tersely. “I don’t condone my sister’s actions.”

“You didn’t do much to condemn them, though, did you?” Laura asked. “I have no quarrel with you, Argent, and I suggest we go our separate ways.”

“Agreed,” Chris said, backing slowly to his car. “Allison.”

Allison nodded and turned her back to them to walk away (either incredibly stupid, or incredibly trusting of Stiles’ judgement of the Hales, and she didn’t strike Derek as stupid) but paused and looked over her shoulder.

“My dad and I have a new code,” she said. “ _Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes._ ”

“We protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Derek said.

Allison looked surprised but nodded. She gave Stiles a small smile, said, “Merry Christmas, Stiles,” and climbed into the SUV with her dad.

Derek, Stiles, and Laura silently watched the SUV pull out of the parking lot, which was when Derek finally exhaled loudly, letting himself relax. Not for long, though, Stiles threw himself into Derek’s arms in a tight hug, muttering, “I love you,” over and over, before pulling back and whacking Derek in arm. He half expected Stile to tear into him for the showdown with the Argents.

What he got instead was, “You speak fucking French?!”

-

“You’re sure you’re not mad?” Derek asked in bed that night, curled around Stiles. Stiles snorted and rubbed his hands over where Derek’s arms were wrapped around his middle.

“Derek, I had been in that situation, I’d have done exactly what you and Laura did,” Stiles said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, wriggling closer to Derek. “Or worse. I just hope you never run into her.”

“Me too,” Derek said, burying his face in the back of Stiles’ neck. “I don’t ever want her anywhere near you.”

Stiles gave a hollow laugh. “I would carve out her heart just right, so she could see it beat one last time before she died.”

Derek probably shouldn’t have felt a spike of attraction at that but, well, his mate was strong and capable, so yeah, he loved it.

“Just so you know,” Stiles said, and Derek could almost hear the wicked grin in his voice. “We’re going to really have to discuss you talking dirty to me in French.”

-

Stiles hadn’t been kidding when he said he didn’t fuck around when it came to Christmas. Derek and Laura were enlisted (threatened) into helping Stiles haul a half dozen large plastic totes from the garage and attic into the living room. They were both assigned tasks and Stiles would throw tinsel at them if their attention strayed. 

“Am I the alpha or not?” Laura asked Derek incredulously after Stiles threw a Christmas pillow at her for pausing in decorating the mantle. Derek just shrugged from where he was perched on a step ladder, stringing lights around the perimeter or the living room. Stiles had already threatened to go on a blowjob strike, so Derek wasn’t straying from his task. 

It was all worth it, though, once it was all said and done. The living room was basically a twinkling winter wonderland with white little fairy lights, as well as a matching tree, mantle, and throw pillows (Derek strongly suspected Lydia’s influence there). They’d filled the kitchen with all kinds of Christmas dishes and towels. Derek had spent over an hour stringing a truly inordinate amount of lights around the ceiling, but he had to admit, the result was pretty fantastic. 

The sheriff seemed to agree; as soon as he was out of the squad car, he was pulling Stiles into a rough hug, then yanking in Laura and Derek when he let go of his son.

“Perfect,” John said gruffly. “Just like your mom used to love.”

Stiles gave a watery smile back and Derek and Laura retreated back inside, not wanting to intrude on the family moment, though Stiles and John trailed in a minute later.

“You guys didn’t have to come inside,” Stiles said, kissing Derek on the cheek.

“We need to go anyway,” Laura said. “We want to make it to the cemetery before it gets dark.”

“Right,” Stiles said and nodded. He squeezed Derek’s hand and said, “Call me if you need anything.”

-

Laura and Derek did manage to make it before dark, but only just. They made their way silently through the rows of headstones, of so many people’s lost loved ones, until they were in the very back corner of the cemetery. It was cheaper in the corner, away from the fancy (way too fancy for Beacon Hills) mausoleum in the center, but price wasn’t why they picked their plot. This corner was lined by trees, the edge of the preserve. It was as close as they could manage to a traditional wolf burial in the woods.

Derek and Laura didn’t bring flowers, it was depressing that the flowers would die in a few days, and their family wouldn’t really want them anyway. Instead, they set little carved wolves, one custom-made for each member of the family, against the simple, obelisk statue that marked their family’s graves. Derek had suggested that they lay the items he had liberated from the Hale house, but they both decided that they would rather keep those.

Derek ran his fingers over the braided leather wrapped around his wrist. It still smelled like Cora and Amelia; they had made matching bracelets for each other in school and both leather bands had been sitting on the girls’ nightstands, untouched by the fire. Laura had immediately wrapped one around her wrist then done the same for Derek.

“God, I miss them,” Laura said, breaking the silence. “I should have paid more attention when Mom talked about being an alpha. I’d be so much better at this if I had.”

Derek pulled Laura into his side, wrapping an arm around her and setting his chin on top of her head. She huddled under his touch and Derek was relieved that she was letting him take some of her burden.

“Mom would be proud of you,” Derek said quietly.

Laura sighed and turned in his grasp, wrapping her arms around her little brother. “She’d be proud of you, too, you know,” she said. “And she wouldn’t be mad at you. None of them would.”

Derek’s breath caught in his chest but he nodded slowly and said, “Yeah, I know.”

They stayed a while longer, oscillating between silence and laughter at the ridiculous stories about what a family of werewolves had gotten into, before finally walking out hand in hand.

-

Derek was expecting Chinese food when they got back, like Stiles had said, but what he got instead when he opened the door was Stiles screaming, “Surprise!” and a face full of confetti. He sputtered, blinking glitter out of his eyes to see Stiles standing in front of him, a shit-eating grin on his face. Laura and John stood a few feet behind, looking entirely too amused.

“Surprise what?” Derek asked, confused.

_“Surprise it’s your birthday, dumbass!”_

“Erica?” Derek asked, looking around at the sound of her voice.

 _”You know it, bitch!”_ she called, and it was then that Derek saw the laptop on the kitchen table showing Erica waving.

“We know your birthday is tomorrow but we wanted you to have your own time, not have to share with Christmas, you know?” Stiles said, wringing his hands. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Derek managed to get out. He pulled Stiles in for a hug, kissing the side of his head. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“It was Stiles’ idea,” Laura said.

“Stiles’ demand, really,” John said with a snort.

Stiles rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever, I didn’t hear anyone protesting. Now, cake and presents!”

They situated themselves at the table, moving the laptop so that Erica could see everyone.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Derek said.

“Shut up,” Stiles said cheerily, walking back from the counter and setting a cake in front of him.

Derek stared.

“Is that a Lilo and Stitch birthday cake?”

Erica cackled at the look on Derek’s face.

“It is,” Stiles said proudly. The cake was obviously homemade, a lopsided rectangle with swirls of blue frosting for an ocean that gave way to tan frosting sand. Stuck in the tan frosting were two little figurines, one of Lilo and one of Stitch.

Derek looked up, a little confused until he remembered the night in Stiles’ apartment a few months prior. They’d been wrapped up in each other, both had had pretty crappy days, though Derek couldn’t remember why. Stiles had smelled irritated when Derek had walked in the front door but he’d taken one look at Derek’s face and yanked him in, shoved him down onto the couch, threw a blanket over him, and crawled in next to him, aggressively cuddling Derek and flipping on Netflix.

They’d marathoned Disney movies for the next few hours until they’d gotten to Lilo and Stitch. When Stiles spoke along with the movie, saying, “This is my family. I found it all on my own. It’s little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good,” Derek looked down to see Stiles’ eyes wet. Derek had tilted Stiles’ chin up with two fingers, locking eyes. Derek pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips and nodded in understanding.

Derek looked up from the cake to Stiles, who was smiling down at him nervously. Leaning up, Derek pressed a kiss to the underside of Stiles’ jaw and with the other hand, smeared frosting to the side of his face. Stiles lurched back, sputtering.

“You!” he said, pointing dramatically at Derek. Laura yanked him back before he could pounce, making Derek grin.

“It’s perfect, Stiles,” Derek said.

Stiles grinned and shrugged out of Laura’s grasp to lean over and light the candles and grab a napkin to wipe the frosting from his face.

“Make a wish,” Stiles said. “And blow,” he added with a wink. John smacked him on the back of the head, but Erica laughed.

Derek just snorted but closed his eyes, thinking of a wish like Stiles demanded. A few seconds later, he opened his eyes and blew out the candles to Stiles and Erica’s cheers.

“What’d you ask for?” Stiles asked while John and Laura cut the cake.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” Derek said completely seriously, only cracking a smile when Stiles stared at him like he wasn’t sure if Derek was joking or not. Stiles rolled his eyes but pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek.

The cake was delicious, way better than anything store-bought. Erica glared, eating a cupcake over Skype, until Stiles promised to bake her a cake when they got back to New York. She instantly brightened (Derek was pretty sure Stiles had just been conned) before insisting that Derek open his gifts.

 _“Hurry up before her royal majesty comes back and tries to sell me off to a foreign pack in exchange for a bucket of sperm,”_ she demanded.

John choked on the one piece of cake he was allowed and Laura thumped him on the back and rolled her eyes, long since given up on lecturing Erica about respecting her alpha and his wife.

Derek opened Erica’s present first in an effort to placate her. He tore off all the wrapping paper (Disney princess paper, because Erica thought she was hilarious [“Joke’s on her, your favorite princess is Belle!”]) and peeked inside, only to immediately slam the box shut, cheeks bright red.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, trying to peer over Derek’s shoulder.

 _“Probably not something you want opened in front of your dad,”_ Erica answered, grinning.

Derek groaned, Stiles looked torn between being intrigued and embarrassed, and John looked like he was seriously reconsidering all of his life decisions. 

“Well, looks like mine’s next,” Laura said loudly, flipping Erica the bird and pushing a gift bag toward Derek, which turned out to contain a new DSLR camera.

“So the disgustingly cute pictures of you and Stiles will have a better quality than the ones from your shitty phone camera,” Laura said.

 _“And better quality nudes,_ Erica said with a wink.

“I will close the laptop, I swear to god,” Stiles threatened, trying to ignore his dad’s decidedly unhappy face. “You nutbag.”

“This is from Lydia,” Laura said, handing Derek a small package.

“Really?” Derek asked, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Really,” Laura confirmed with a smile.

“Wow,” Stiles said, whistling through his teeth. “If Lydia deems you worthy of gifts, you’ve hit the jackpot. Friend-wise and, for the love of god, gift-wise.”

Stiles was right. Lydia didn’t do gifts half-assed and Derek ended up with a bottle of high-end cologne, specifically designed for werewolves that mixed with and enhanced their natural scent.

“Sister approved,” Laura said, tapping her nose. “You won’t smell like the inside of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.”

“How did Lydia even know that exists?” John asked.

“The fact that you still question the breadth of Lydia’s knowledge saddens me,” Stiles said dramatically, shaking his head.

“Watch your tone, kid,” John said, but pushed a haphazardly-wrapped box across the table, giving Derek a stern look when he tried to protest. “Give it up, kid. You’re in a gift-giving house.”

The gift from the sheriff turned out to be a heavy book on baseball history, pleasantly surprising Derek.

“Stiles never shuts up about you,” John said. “It wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

Stiles grinned, unashamed. “Damn straight, I brag like crazy,” he said. He pushed the last package toward Derek, scent excited and nervous at the same time.

Derek unwrapped it delicately, gently tugging the tape off in the way that he knew irked the shit out of Stiles.

“I will strangle you,” Stiles hissed when Derek started to slowly fold the wrapping paper. Stiles yanked the paper from Derek’s hands and crumpled it into a ball, glaring. Derek just laughed softly and opened the box to see a stuffed wolf with large, bushy eyebrows that seemed to have been sewn on by Stiles.

Derek gave Stiles a flat look, but Stiles just smiled. Looking back down, Derek noticed an envelope between the wolf’s front paws. ‘Sourwolf’ was written across it in Stiles’ scrawling handwriting.

“You’re hilarious,” Derek deadpanned as he opened the envelope. He blinked, then looked up at Stiles. “You bought us tickets for the Motley Crue farewell tour.”

“Yep.”

“You hate Motley Crue.”

“Yep,” Stiles said again. “And I’ll go with you if you want, but I figured since it was something you guys and your dad loved, you might want to take Laura.”

Derek glanced over at Laura who was grinning in a way that made it clear that she knew exactly what Stiles had planned.

“Thank you,” Derek said. 

“Aw, it’s so great that your boyfriend doesn’t suck,” Laura mockingly cooed. Stiles pulled back and waggled his eyebrows.

“Well, actually…” Stiles said.

“Stiles Stilinski, if you finish that sentence, I swear to god, I will eat a whole steak wrapped in bacon,” John threatened.

-

The McCalls arrived at the Stilinski house the next morning right as they were finishing Christmas breakfast. Scott was accompanied by a brightly-smiling, curly-haired woman that had one of the kindest faces that Derek had ever seen. (Stiles said the McCalls had celebrated with Allison and her father the night before and that Allison and Chris were doing their own Christmas thing. Derek felt bad at tearing Scott away from her, but was grateful he wouldn’t have to deal with them today.) After hugging both John and Stiles, she introduced herself to Derek and Laura as Melissa.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Derek said politely, holding out his hand.

“Oh, honey,” Melissa said, and pulled him into a tight hug.

“She gives the best mom-hugs,” Stiles mock whispered.

It was weird to be hugged by someone who smelled so strongly of another wolf but Stiles was right; Melissa McCall had the amazing ability to make one feel safe in a mom-hug. After letting go of Derek, she did the same to Laura, who looked a little dazed, but pleased. Melissa pulled back with a smile, giving Scott the time to greet them before his mom roped him back into helping her put away the food they’d brought.

“Melissa’s Christmas dinner is legendary,” Stiles explained as Derek’s eyebrows continued to climb at the sheer amount of food being stuffed into the fridge and laid out on the counter. Derek gave Stiles an incredulous look when Scott walked back into the kitchen with the last of the bags from the car.

“Dude, she’s not an idiot, she knows she’s feeding _werewolves_ ,” Stiles said. Point.

-

Opening presents was quite an experience. Stiles had the excitement of a small child and it was one of the most adorable things Derek had ever seen. Stiles sat cross-legged on the floor by the tree, crawling through piles of wrapping paper to hand people their gifts. Scott wasn’t on the floor, but he was leaning over with his elbows on his knees, eyes bright, and grinning. They strongly reminded Derek of a pair of overeager puppies.

Halfway through the pile of presents, an impromptu wrapping paper fight broke out. Derek was determined to stay out of it, but Laura had no such qualms and really, he could only take so many wrapping bows to the face before he snapped and joined in.

Soon enough, John and Melissa stepped in with garbage bags to wrangle up the paper before it could get too violent. They redirected Scott and Stiles’ attention to the remaining gifts with an ease that spoke of practice. Stiles seemed to be fine with it and immediately crawled back to the tree, tossing gifts to everyone.

Laura’s turned out to be a gift of new charcoals from Stiles, which she happily added to the pile of new art supplies to her left. She and Derek also ended up with a fancy bottle of wolfsbane-infused vodka that Scott promised was amazing. Derek was surprised, really, despite Stiles’ warnings, at the sheer amount of stuff at his and Laura’s feet. Gifts, food, a place to stay, these people had gone so far out of their way to make them feel welcome and it blew Derek away.

John got a little teary-eyed when Laura presented him with a painting of a young Stiles and Claudia. Laura looked panicked for a second, like she was trying to figure out if she’d done something wrong, before John lunged forward and tugged Laura in for a hug. She hugged him back, looking over his shoulder at Stiles with wide eyes, but he just grinned back. As soon as he let her go, the sheriff immediately disappeared into the garage, only to pop back in a minute later with a hammer and nail. Melissa followed him out to the hall to hand the painting with the other family pictures.

“Good?” Laura asked Stiles.

“Good,” he confirmed.

“Scott, your mom needs some help in the kitchen,” John said, coming back to the living room. Derek raised his eyebrows at the lie but if Scott noticed, he didn’t let on, just stood cheerily and left the room. Stiles watched until Scott disappeared from the living room before walking to the tree, rifling behind it until he triumphantly emerged with another present. The box was square, a bit bigger than a shoebox, and Derek could see his and Laura’s names on the tag.

“I thought we were done with gifts?” Derek asked when Stiles handed him the box. Laura scooted closer to Derek, peering curiously at the box.

“Almost,” Stiles said. “We wanted to give this to you without anyone else here. It’s kind of personal.”

Stiles’ heartbeat was doing that anxious, erratic beat that always made Derek worry that it was just going to give out. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

“Relax,” Derek said, nudging Stiles until he was perched in the coffee table opposite of where Derek and Laura were sitting. John was watching calmly from the armchair in the corner.

Derek offered Laura first dibs at unwrapping it, but she waved him off, peering over his shoulder as he tugged off the ribbon and wrapping paper. He pointedly looked back at her when she all but climbed over his shoulder to look.

“Sorry,” Laura said, sounding completely unapologetic, but she did back up.

Derek opened the box, trying very hard to ignore Stiles’ jittering leg, to find what looked at first glance to be a box of junk and a stack of photos. Laura’s breath caught beside him before he could look to Stiles in confusion, though it only took him a second to figure out why. The picture on top of the stack was unmistakably Talia Hale with a small child on her hip, another one a running blur by her feet, smiling at the camera with a dark-haired man staring adoringly down at her. Derek couldn’t take his eyes off of his father.

“Oh my god,” Laura breathed. “Derek, you look just like Dad.” Derek swallowed and nodded.

“I’d almost forgotten what he looked like,” Derek admitted, trying to push away the guilt churning in his gut.

“Look at your face!” Laura said, pointing to the kid on Talia’s hip who, Derek realized with a jolt, was a younger him. “Oh my god, you had your bunny teeth then, too!”

Derek grimaced, but it was true. Tiny Derek was making a growly face at the camera, fingers curled like fake claws.

“Are you chasing a butterfly?” Derek asked, pointing at the blurred child, running with her hands in front of her.

“Very important hunting skills,” Laura said seriously before losing her straight face and laughing.

Derek gingerly picked up the stack of photos, like he was half afraid they would crumble to dust if he was too rough, and flipped to the next one, a class picture from Cora’s kindergarten class, with Cora front and center, smiling with her two front teeth missing. Derek blinked against the stinging in his eyes and turned to the next photo.

None of the pictures seemed to come from the same place. Some were old school photos, some candids from what looked like barbeques or parties, here was even a newspaper clipping of their Uncle Peter’s engagement announcement from the local newspaper.

Under the pictures, in the bottom of the box, sat a bunch of knickknacks, like Cora, Amelia, and their cousin, Madison’s, old report cards. There was a small trophy for 2nd place that Derek’s baseball team had won when he was 13, just like the one he’d had in his room, a necklace that said ‘Laura and Jamie BFF’ in chunky beads, and a collage made from wedding magazine clippings with Madison’s name on the back, amongst other items.

Laura looked up with wide eyes, gaze flickering back and forth between Stiles and John. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How?”

Derek’s eyes were glued to Stiles. He wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but Stiles was giving him a soft smile, meeting his gaze head on.

“A lot of it was Dad,” Stiles said, glancing over at his dad. “We called a bunch of people, pretty much stalked everyone who ever met your family, and asked for anything they had even remotely Hale-related.”

“And they had all this?” Laura asked, looking a little dazed. She ran her fingers over their little sisters’ yearbooks. “And they gave it to you?”

“The Hale family was well-loved,” John said. “They were happy to help. Plus, Stiles hounded anyone silly enough to say no to him.”

Stiles grinned, shrugging.

“Luckily, one of Cora and Amelia’s teachers is a bit of a hoarder, so we got a bunch of projects and yearbooks and report cards from him,” Stiles said. He shifted a little uncomfortably, turning back to Derek. “You haven’t said anything…is this okay?”

Derek blinked, realizing he’d been blankly staring at Stiles for the last few minutes. He handed the box to Laura and reached out for Stiles, yanking his boyfriend across the distance between them until Stiles was practically in his lap, and wrapped his arms around him tightly. He buried his face in Stiles’ neck and breathed deeply, inhaling the perfect scent of his mate, and hoped he conveyed just how grateful he was.

“It’s perfect,” Derek murmured. “You’re perfect. Thank you.”

John cleared his throat pointedly and Derek reluctantly pulled back, blushing a bit.

“Seriously, thank you,” Laura said. “Both of you, this is amazing.”

Derek nodded in agreement, turning his attention back to the photos in his lap. Stiles said something about giving them some time, then left the room, leaving Derek and Laura to dig through the box of their memories. Derek and Laura had been able to save nothing from the fire before they fled Beacon Hills. They had no pictures, no memories, and Derek swelled with so much affection and joy that it almost hurt. Laura rested her head on his shoulder and he knew she understood exactly what he was thinking.

By the time Derek and Laura reappeared, Melissa and Scott were serving dinner. It was, as Stiles had promised, completely amazing. It didn’t seem to matter that Derek and Laura had only really known Scott (outside of Skype) and John for two days, Melissa only a handful of hours, the air was still warm and welcoming. Derek had been worried that it’d be awkward, being with someone else’s family during the holidays, especially with another werewolf, but he didn’t feel like an outsider here.

“What?” Stiles asked and Derek realized that he’d been staring at the younger man. 

Derek shrugged, leaning forward to put his napkin on the table. “Nothing,” he said softly. “I’m just happy.”

Stiles’ returning grin was blinding.

“Yeah? Me, too.”

-

With Christmas over, it was time to get ready for the ritual that officially brings a human into the pack. Laura disappeared for half of the day after Christmas, returning around dinner (not shocking Derek, as if Laura would ever miss food) with a large paper bag. Derek wasn’t sure what was in it, but it smelled like a mix off mint, sage, and something that made him feel like he was going to sneeze.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked.

“A bunch of stuff from Deaton,” Laura said. “Thanks for putting me in touch with him, by the way. Some fancy, ceremonial crap for tomorrow night.”

“Are you going to season me?” Stiles asked. “Because if I’m about to be some midnight werewolf snack, I gotta say, you aren’t going to get much meat out of me.”

“I’m sure Derek disagrees about your meat,” Laura said with a wink.

“I hate you,” Derek said matter-of-factly, ignoring the skip in his heartbeat. “Is it anything dangerous?”

“No,” Laura said, shaking her head. “Believe it or not, I’m not interested in poisoning your boyfriend.”

“You have threatened before,” Stiles pointed out. Laura rolled her eyes.

“That was months ago. You need to learn to let things go.”

-

“This smells like shit,” Stiles said, cringing.

Derek scrunched up his nose and continued rubbing the ‘disgusting goop’ onto Stiles. Deaton had been very specific on placement, size, and shape of the sigils that were to be drawn on Stiles with the salve made from the ingredients Laura had been given. Derek insisted on drawing them onto Stiles himself.

They were deep in the preserve, so far out that there were trees for miles and miles in every direction. Deep enough that there weren’t even any trails leading to the clearing where they were settled. There was no way to even know it was there, unless they’d been there before. Unless they were a wolf. Laura had disappeared when Derek started applying the runes to Stiles’ skin, creating a perimeter around the clearing with more supplies from Deaton.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly, making Derek pause and look up from where he’d been tracing an intricate spiral design on Stiles’ forearm. Stiles nudged his forehead against Derek’s, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to be fine. It’s all going to be fine.”

“I know,” Derek said, exhaling harshly. “Is it so hard to believe that I’ll still worry about you?” Stiles laughed at that.

“No, not hard to believe at all,” Stiles said. “But after it’s done, I’ll be able to feel this fancy pack bond even more. It’s not the mating bite, but it’s a step closer. I’m tying myself to you, to the Hale pack. You’re stuck with me now.”

Derek nudged his nose against Stiles’ before leaning in to kiss him. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Stiles again when they heard the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat. They turned to see Laura standing in the trees a few yards away with her arms crossed and a very judgmental Hale eyebrow raised.

“I hear that sex magic is powerful, but that is so not why we’re here,” Laura said.

Stiles just rolled his eyes but Derek flushed and ducked down to finish the last sigil on Stiles’ arm. Laura stepped closer, nodding approvingly at Derek’s handiwork. She turned her gaze to Stiles’ face, expression serious.

“There’s still time for you to back out,” Laura said and Derek’s heart seized at the words. “After, that’s it, you’re pack. You’ll be susceptible to alpha’s orders, not as much as a wolf, but you will be. You will be bound to me, to the land, and to the pack. It’s not something to take lightly.”

Stiles didn’t shrink away or look down, just steadily met Laura’s gaze. He smelled slightly of nerves, but there was no trace of fear or dread.

“I know what I’m doing,” Stiles said. “This is what I want.”

Laura’s answering smile was blinding. 

“I was always wary about adding a member to the pack, especially a human,” Laura said. Stiles tensed under Derek’s touch, but Derek calmly stroked the nape of Stiles’ neck with his clean hand. “But I’m proud and happy to welcome you.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, relaxing under Derek’s hand. “I’m honored to be accepted.”

At Laura’s request, Derek stepped away from Stiles and moved to stand by his alpha. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper with the ritual’s words copied from Deaton’s book and tweaked to fit their own little pack.

“I, Laura Hale, Alpha of the Hale Pack, seconded by Derek Hale, accept Stiles Stilinski as a packmate,” Laura said, voice taking on the sonorous alpha quality, reminding Derek so much of their mother. Back straight, eyes bright and red, and her head high, she was every inch the alpha Talia Hale had been. “Do you accept?”

“I, Stiles Stilinski, graciously and humbly accept the invitation to join the Hale Pack,” Stiles answered, voice strangely formal and completely lacking his usual bit of teasing.

Laura stepped forward until she was standing toe to toe with Stiles, letting the claw of her pointer finger rest on the run in the center of Stiles’ chest. Her face softened as she smiled at Stiles.

“Welcome to the pack, Stiles.”

Then her claw pierced the rune. Stiles flinched and Derek’s wolf whined at the smell of Stiles’ blood, but that was instantly overwhelmed by the pack bond flooding his senses, burst wide and open at the addition of Stiles. Derek not only felt the bond envelope Stiles, but it was like it had pulled him closer to Laura, wrapping them all in a comfortable warmth of safety.

Derek opened his eyes at Stiles’ gasp, unaware he’d even closed them, to see the look of awe and wonder on Stiles’ face.

“I didn’t think it’d feel like this,” Stiles whispered, like loud words would break the moment. “I knew it’d be intense, but, wow.”

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, reaching out to Stiles. Stiles nodded, letting Derek pull him into the circle of his arms. Laura slotted herself behind them, wrapping her arms around them both.

“Very,” Stiles said. “I’m thinking this is going to make puppy piles great.”

-

Leaving Beacon Hills was hard on Stiles. He hugged his dad and Scott three times each between goodbyes to Melissa, Isaac, and Boyd. Derek and Laura thanked everyone for their hospitality and both were shocked when Isaac hugged them both. The curly-haired man gave them both a shy but genuine smile, especially when Laura reminded him that they were all welcome to contact her if they ever had any werewolf questions. 

Derek, Stiles, and Laura had almost finished stuffing their (significantly heaver post-Christmas) bags into the back of the rental car when a familiar black SUV pulled up in front of the Stilinski house, idling by the curb. Derek felt Stiles stiffen beside him and a second later, Chris and Allison Argent climbed out, walking slowly up the driveway. Derek’s stomach dropped.

“Guys,” Stiles said, taking a step forward, only to freeze when Derek threw an arm out, stopping him in his tracks. Stiles looked at him incredulously and Derek let go with a sheepish shrug.

“Sorry, instinct,” Derek said. Stiles rolled his eyes but looked vaguely amused rather than annoyed.

“What do you want?” Laura asked, taking a subtle step in front of Stiles and Derek. Derek was happy that Scott, John, and the others weren’t there in that moment.

“We’re not here to fight,” Chris said. “Or try to drive you out of Beacon Hills.”

“That’s good, since it was our home before it was yours,” Laura said conversationally. “Before your fucked up excuse for a human being of a sister decided she felt like lighting children on fire.”

Allison flinched, her eyes shiny.

“We didn’t have anything to do with that,” Chris said. “That was Kate and Gerard.”

“Gerard?” Derek asked.

“My grandfather,” Allison said softly, like it hurt to admit which, honestly, Derek thought it probably did. “He and Kate…they’re fanatics, insane. We’ve cut ties with them.” The tears in Allison’s eyes were dangerously close to spilling over.

“Allison’s mother, my wife, was bitten by a rogue alpha while Allison and I were out of town,” Chris said. “When they found out, they forced Victoria to kill herself.”

Derek froze, sharing a startled look with Laura. Stiles just looked at Allison sadly, the story obviously not news to him.

“We cut ties with them after that,” Allison said, chin rising. “They know they aren’t welcome anywhere near here.”

There was silence for a few moments before Laura’s face softened a bit, her posture relaxing minutely. “I don’t want to sound indelicate,” Laura said, “but didn’t that make you hate werewolves more?”

“I don’t hate Target because one of their employees hit my car with a cart,” Allison said bluntly. “They took my mother from me, not werewolves. And I love Scott. Neither of those things changed.”

Chris pulled a bit of a face when Allison mentioned Scott but otherwise nodded at what Allison said, and Derek vaguely remembered being told that the old hunting families were mostly matriarchal and yeah, he could see it.

“We don’t hate werewolves, and we have a code,” Chris said.

“Yeah, you’ve said,” Laura said. “While I don’t trust you, Stiles does. And I trust Stiles.”

Both Argents nodded, seemingly satisfied that that was as good as it would get.

“Same,” Allison said. “But with Stiles now in your pack, we’re going to be keeping a closer eye on New York.”

“Watching us?” Laura asked in the voice that Derek knew meant she was trying hard not to snarl. Allison, though, looked genuinely surprised. 

“To watch out for you,” she said. “We care about Stiles, we want to make sure he’s okay, and you by extension.”

Laura blinked. Derek fought the urge to snort. It was hard to surprise his sister so he always got a kick out of it whenever it did happen.

“I-thank you,” Laura said. Allison smiled and those dimples lit up her face, making her absolutely adorable enough to match Scott’s puppy-ness.

“You’re welcome. Fly safe. Bye, Stiles,” she said.

“You rock, Allison,” Stiles said, going in for a hug. Derek almost growled but Allison put an arm out before he could, stopping Stiles from reaching her. Stiles titled his head in confusion, smelling a bit hurt. Allison gave Stiles an apologetic smile and took a step back.

“It’s nothing against you, Stiles,” she promised. “You just joined a pack. They’re going to want your scent to only mix with theirs for a while.”

Stiles looked to Derek for confirmation, who nodded, a bit embarrassed. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel too badly though, because the smell and feel of how pleased Stiles was at that was just too perfect.

“Wow, the plane’s gonna suck, isn’t it?” Stiles asked.

-

The plane did suck. The flight, the airport, all of it. There were too many people and smells and the whole way back, all Derek wanted to do was bury his face in Stiles’ neck and rub their bodies together until he couldn’t smell any of the people around them.

Laura seemed to have a similar problem, though not as badly as Derek, so they made Stiles sit in the middle seat on the flight home so both of them could run fingers over his hands or arms, subtly scenting him as much as they could without being noticed. 

“We should have thought the timing through better,” Derek muttered after he gave into the urge to press a kiss under Stiles’ jaw.

“Solidly my bad,” Laura said, holding Stiles’ hand tightly. 

Neither wolf was happy until they were back home, bodily dragging Stiles into their apartment, not even letting him go into his own first.

“Go change,” Derek said, pushing Stiles toward his room. Stiles went with an eye roll, but Derek could tell he wasn’t actually annoyed.

It only took a minute or two for Stiles to come back out, clad in baggy sweats and a loose henley. They were already saturated in Derek’s scent and he realized they were the clothes he’d slept in the night before they’d flown out.

“Fuck, I love you,” Derek grunted, yanking Stiles down to the couch and nuzzling into his neck. Laura came back in a second later, folding herself down next to Stiles and resting her hand on his shoulder. Stiles didn’t complain or shift at all, just relaxed into the pack scenting fest.

“Thank you,” Derek mumbled later that night, when they were all seconds from nodding off.

“For what?” Stiles asked, not bothering to open his eyes or look up from where he was huddled under Derek’s arm.

“Letting us do this,” Derek said. Laura mumbled her agreement from where she was sprawled across their laps, her head hanging off Derek’s knee.

Stiles did open his eyes at that, staring up at Derek in surprise. “It’s not exactly a hardship,” Stiles said. “Even before the ritual, I was always down for a good cuddle puddle.”

“And now?” Derek asked curiously, rubbing his thumb over Stiles’ shoulder.

“It’s like waking up,” Stiles said, unconsciously mirroring what Laura had said at the Hardwick’s full moon run all those months ago. “It’s like having all the new werewolf urges I’ve seen with you guys and Scott, like scenting and wolfy closeness. They’ve all like, watered down and added to my set of premade human instincts.”

Laura smiled and shifted so that her head was on Derek’s knee, facing the ceiling. “Mom had said that sometimes happens to human pack members. Good to know that’s true,” Laura said.

Derek meant to rouse them, no one would sleep well on a couch/someone’s knee, but in a few more minutes, he was out like a light, warm and surrounded by pack.

-

Beside Stiles’ sudden urge to scent everything, there was another unanticipated side effect of the new pack bond; Stiles and Derek’s libidos tripled. After an alarmed call to Lydia, who assured him it was totally normal (the “idiot” was implied), Derek sat back and enjoyed it. It wasn’t like when they first bonded, where it felt like they were sick if they weren’t near each other, thankfully.

 _“It’s because the pack is growing. You just joined, which added stabilization. Your bodies are trying to do what they can to add to the pack even more,”_ Lydia had said.

“We’re both men,” Stiles had pointed out. “It’s not like either one of us can get pregnant, right?” Derek could practically hear Lydia roll her eyes.  
__  
“No, Stiles. Neither of you have a uterus and, therefore, cannot get pregnant,” Lydia had said. _“It will pass, your hormone levels will even out. It’ll be a thousand times worse when you actually complete the mating bond. Now give the phone to Laura.”_  
  
Laura had snatched the phone from Stiles right when Derek bit down where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder, making him moan. She’d pushed Derek and Stiles toward Derek’s room. They’d gone gladly, clothes hitting the floor before the door was even closed.

-

It took a week for the weird hormone surge to level out (Derek was extremely envious that Laura hadn’t been affected. “I’m the alpha, little bro.”). A week of Derek and Stiles meeting up for blowjobs at lunch (thank god they worked 15 minutes from each other) and incessant sexting. Derek loved Stiles a lot, but it was nice to meet each other for lunch or sleep the whole night without one of them wanting to mount the other.

“I’m so glad you figured out how to shower,” Laura said when they finally got it out of their systems. “You were like two cats in heat.”

“Fuck off,” Stiles said cheerily, going about preparing dinner. Laura growled but there was no real menace behind it.

“You’re lucky I’m not like Andrew Hardwick,” Laura said. “He’d probably flay you alive for your attitude.”

“He wouldn’t even be allowed to stay human,” Derek said. “From everything Erica’s said, he’s obsessed with werewolf purity. She said if a human is born into their pack, its bitten within the first year.”

“Is that safe?” Stiles asked, alarmed.

“Not very,” Derek said. “Our mom always waited until human members turned 18 before seriously discussing the bite with them.”

“The bite doesn’t always take,” Stiles said. Derek nodded, even though he and Laura already knew that. “And infants aren’t exactly at a strong age. They’re willing to risk the lives of babies for what, a snotty superiority complex?” There was true outrage in Stiles’ voice, prompting Derek to get up from the kitchen table and go to Stiles, gently taking the slightly crumpled package of spaghetti from his hands.

“Some people aren’t like you, Stiles,” Derek said, kissing his forehead. “Some wolves think of humans as the mudbloods.”

Stiles made an indignant noise and turned back to the stove, starting the pasta. Derek lightly brushed a hand over the back of Stiles’ neck before joining Laura at the kitchen table. Before he could sit down, his pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone, a picture of Erica flipping him off popping up.

“Speak of the devil,” Derek muttered and answered the phone. “Erica.”

 _”Derek,”_ she responded. Her voice was rough, exhausted. Derek frowned. _”You guys are back from California, right?”_

“Yes,” Derek said. “For a few weeks now. Is everything okay? You don’t sound great.”

Erica snorted. _”I sound like shit, but that was nicely diplomatic,”_ she said. She sighed and there was a slight shuffling sound then the click of a closing door. _”So, I was wondering if I could maybe come and stay with you guys for a few days?”_

“Yeah,” Derek said, then glanced at Laura, who of course could hear the conversation, for confirmation. She immediately nodded. “Of course. Erica, are you okay?”

There was a pause and all Derek could hear was Erica’s slightly uneven breathing.

 _”Can I come tonight?”_ she finally asked.

“Of course,” Derek said. “Erica, you’d tell us if something was wrong, right?”

 _”I’ll see you in a few hours,”_ Erica said, then hung up, leaving Derek frowning at the phone. When he looked up, both Laura and Stiles were looking at him expectantly.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked.

“Erica’s coming to stay with us for a few days,” he said.

“Is she okay?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Derek said. He tossed the phone onto the table and collapsed into his chair with a frustrated huff. “She sounded weird.” 

“We’ll see soon,” Laura said. “I’m going to grab the spare blankets and pillows.” 

Derek nodded absently as Stiles moved around the kitchen and Laura set up a sleeping on a space at the end of the couch. All he could think of was the exhausted and desperate undertones in Erica’s voice.

-

More than three hours later, Erica finally walked into their apartment, throwing herself into the couch in a boneless heap. Derek exchanged a worried look with Laura before she moved forward, sinking to her knees next to the couch. She ran her fingers through Erica’s thick hair, pulling the strands aside until she could see her face.

Stiles gasped softly and Derek fought not to flinch. The side of Erica’s face was smattered with cuts and bruises. She flinched when Laura’s fingers touched her scalp. Black lines snaked up Laura’s arm as she drained as much of Erica’s pain as she could. Erica let out a sigh and nuzzled into Laura’s hand, almost like she couldn’t resist the pull of a strong and capable alpha.

“You’re okay,” Laura murmured, almost too softly for Derek to hear. He pulled Stiles to the other couch and they sat in silence, watching the remaining tension leave Erica’s body.

“Thanks,” Erica said, wincing as she pulled herself upright into a sitting position. “I appreciate it.”

“Want to tell us what’s going on?” Derek asked softly. Erica nodded, but still didn’t look thrilled.

“Andrew and Christina are really pushing me to take a mate,” Erica said. “They keep saying that they brought me in to expand their pack and I’m not doing my sacred duty, or whatever.”

Derek put a hand on Stiles’ knee when he made an indignant noise, though Derek didn’t blame him.

“So he beat you?” Laura asked, unable to keep the growl from her voice. Erica gave a hollow laugh.

“No,” Erica said. “Might as well have, though. Christina’s losing her damn mind. She’s pretty much upped training to all day, every day for anyone who’s unbonded or giving her any attitude, like me.”

“So they’re basically giving themselves an excuse to throw you around,” Derek said.

“Yep,” Erica answered. “They only let me come because they think I’m here to convince the Hales to breed.”

Laura shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable. “Erica, we can’t, _I_ can’t go against another pack,” Laura said. “I can’t – I don’t have any right, by pack law, to tell him how to treat his betas or run his pack.”

“Oh no, no,” Erica said, eyes going wide. “I don’t want you to start a pack war, I’m not asking you guys to make enemies with their pack.”

The fact that she called it ‘their’ pack instead of ‘my’ pack didn’t escape Derek’s notice. Laura let out a small relieved noise.

“I’m sorry,” Laura said, sounding pained. “I’m fine with you being here since they know, but I can’t be seen as trying to poach on their packmember, especially since we live in the same territory. I just had to be sure.”

“No, I know,” Erica said. “I wouldn’t do that to you guys.” Whatever she was going to say next was drowned out by a huge yawn.

“When was the last time you slept?” Derek asked.

“Last night.”

“For how long?”

“Three hours?”

“All right,” Laura said, getting to her feet. “Sleep, now. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Erica said and slid sideways until her face was buried in the couch. Laura shoved a pillow under her head and threw a blanket over her curled up body before all but shoving Derek and Stiles out of the living room.

“I hate this,” Stiles said when he and Derek were curled up in bed. “I hate that there’s nothing we can do.”

“I know,” Derek said, nuzzling the back of Stiles’ neck. “I do, too.”

“She can’t just leave their pack? Like, secede or something?” Stiles asked.

“She could,” Derek said. “But without a pack to take her in, she’d become an omega. Yeah, there are more omegas in New York than average and some of them manage just fine, but it’s dangerous to be an omega, especially in a big city.”

“And Laura can’t take her in because it would be seen as an act of aggression on Hardwick territory,” Stiles said, exhaling harshly.

“Yeah,” Derek said, tightening his arms around Stiles. “We’ll do what we can.”

“Which isn’t much,” Stiles grumbled, burrowing deeper into Derek’s arms.

 _No_ , Derek though. _It isn’t much at all._

-

Erica slept until noon the next day, well over twelve hours. Laura had wanted to wake her up to make her eat something, but when she tried, Erica just kicked out and rolled over. Derek and Stiles laughed. Laura didn’t try again.

After she woke up and scarfed down her lunch, Erica was in a significantly better mood. She didn’t really feel like going anywhere, so she stayed home with Laura while Derek and Stiles went to work. Derek was a bit envious. Laura was going to give Erica a drawing lesson. Derek was going to be pulling pieces of a dead cat out of an engine block.

Turns out, Erica was not an artist. Laura tried to get her sketching basic eyes, heads, trees, and it ended up looking like something done by a third grader. Erica apparently realized that and decided to own it. She painted a picture of four stick figures holding hands under a yellow sun. Two stick figures, one with long brown hair and one with curly yellow, had comically large circular breasts on the little stick torsos. The other two had brown hair, but one had brown spots on its face and the other had dark, thick eyebrows in the shape of an angry V.

Erica had painted it on one of Laura’s huge canvases. Laura hung it up in the kitchen when Derek got home. Erica grinned.

“I don’t know what to say,” Derek said.

“You could say I’m the next Rembrandt,” Erica said with a smirk.

“You are the next Rembrandt,” Derek said flatly.

“And I made cookies,” Erica said, pointing to the kitchen counter. 

“You’re going to be Stiles’ new favorite,” Derek said.

“Who and why?” Stiles asked, coming in the front door.

“Erica made cookies,” Derek said.

“Aw boo, you know me so well,” Stiles said, stopping to kiss Derek on the way to the kitchen. “But she doesn’t touch my dick, so you’re still my favorite.”

“You sweet talker.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Erica said. Stiles stuck his tongue out but continued on to the kitchen.

“I’m surprised you made cookies,” Derek said. “Doesn’t Stiles owe you a cake from Christmas?”

Erica’s eyes widened. “You do, you fucker!”

“I will, I swear!” Stiles said, running into the kitchen to snag some cookies. 

After a few more kisses and a bit of nuzzling, Derek left Stiles to his post-work snack and to apparently start baking a cake, and sank into the couch next to Erica. She was staring at a spot on the wall where the paint was starting to chip, zoning out a bit until Derek nudged her with his shoulder. She turned to look at him, a soft smile on her face.

“I want that,” Erica said, gesturing between Derek and Stiles. “The closeness, the everything you guys have. I want that, not some half-assed arranged mating with a random guy from New Jersey.”

“They’re actually trying to force you to marry some guy from another pack?” Derek asked, shocked. Erica snorted.

“Marry is a nice word for it, but yeah,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “They’re more concerned with what they can get into my uterus. They’re talking to some pack in New Jersey, negotiating like I’m worth thirty chickens or something.”

“What are you going to do?” Derek asked softly. To his horror, a sob escaped Erica.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

Stiles appeared at the end of the couch, looking devastated. Derek put an arm around Erica and Stiles climbed over a second later, wrapping his arms around them both.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered into Erica’s hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing it,” Erica said through a choked sob. “Thanks.”

Derek could hear Laura moving around in her room and a few seconds later, she was there, too, crowding her way onto the couch with them. There wasn’t much to do, no promises they could make, so Derek just held Erica, let her feel what it was like to be surrounded by a pack that was actually capable of comfort and support. He had a feeling it wasn’t something she’d ever get to feel on her own.

-

It went against every instinct Derek had to let her go, but Erica left the next afternoon. He knew she’d be in deep shit if she defied her alpha and stayed longer than she was given permission for, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Laura seemed to agree, clenching her jaw as Erica left.

“I hate this,” Stiles said, locking the door. “I really fucking hate this.”

“Yeah? Do you think I don’t?!” Laura snapped. Stiles flinched nearly imperceptibly, but Laura caught it and her face fell. “Shit, I’m sorry Stiles.” Stiles shrugged, scent still sour. 

“It’s whatever,” Stiles said. “I need to go to work anyway.” He leaned in and gave Derek a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tonight, babe.”

As soon as the door closed, Derek turned his glare to Laura. She threw her hands up in the air. 

“I know, okay?” she said. She ran a hand over her face, exhaling harshly. “If I could take her in, I would, but we can’t start a feud with the Hardwicks!”

“I know, Laura. We’re on your side,” Derek said pointedly. Laura winced.

“I’ll make it up to him,” she promised. 

Derek was quiet for a few minutes, rolling around the idea that had been burning in his mind since they came back to New York after Christmas. Laura waited patiently, having plenty of experience with how Derek communicated.

“What if we weren’t in Hardwick territory?” Derek asked slowly. “It’d still be considered bad etiquette to take on Erica, but not war-worthy, right?”

“Right,” Laura answered slowly.

“So, what if we leave New York?” Derek said. “It’s not our home, not really, it’s just a place we live.” Laura’s heart didn’t speed up and she didn’t look at him in shock, giving him a sneaking suspicious that she’d been thinking along the same lines.

“You want to go back to Beacon Hills,” she said.

“I think it’s an option we should consider,” Derek corrected. “We’ve been gone for a long time and the pull’s never gone away.”

“There are hunters there now,” Laura pointed out. “Argents.”

“Even more reason to go. Scott and his pack…they’ve done better than most would’ve been able to, but how much of that do you think was luck?” Derek asked. “They’re not equipped to deal with hunters.”

“Chris Argent said they have a code,” Laura said. Derek gave her a flat look and she groaned, closing her eyes and leaning back against the living room wall. “I know, I know. There’s no way he can force other hunters to stay away, even if he tried. A good reason to avoid Beacon Hills.”

Laura’s points were valid, but it sounded more to Derek like she was trying to talk herself out of the idea more than anything else.

“All the more reason to go,” Derek said. “They’re pups, Laura. Yeah, they’ve dealt with a lot, but they wouldn’t stand a chance if the Argents have a change of heart.”

“Do you really think that’ll happen?” Laura asked.

“No,” Derek said. “But is it something you’d chance?”

Laura thunked her head against the wall behind her, letting out a long, drawn-out groan of frustration. “No,” she said. “But that brings up a whole new set of issues, doesn’t it? How is Scott’s pack going to take an alpha and new pack setting up shop? They weren’t raised with the pack hierarchy but they still have the instincts. We could end up pitting Stiles against his best friend.”

“I’m not suggesting we pack up and leave right now,” Derek said. “I just think it’s something we should discuss. All of us.” Laura didn’t answer but she didn’t disagree with him either. He asked her softly, “Do you really not feel the pull?”

Laura did look at him then, her face totally open and vulnerable. _She’s scared,_ Derek realized. He wasn’t sure of what; of the uncertainty that comes with change, of Beacon Hills itself, Derek just didn’t know. But she was, reminding Derek that even though she was the alpha, she wasn’t infallible. 

“I feel it,” Laura said. “I feel it every day. Okay, we’ll talk to Stiles when he gets home, all right?”

“All right,” Derek agreed.

He’d been rolling around the idea of going back to Beacon Hills for a while, but the visit during Christmas really triggered him to seriously consider it. Until he’d talked to Laura, he hadn’t realized just how much he’s wanted to go back, to his old home. The thing was, he had no idea what Stiles would want.

-

Stiles was quiet for a few moments. Laura had apologized as soon as Stiles had walked in the door, which he’d easily accepted, then asked if he could join them for an impromptu pack meeting. Stiles had sounded wary, but agreed easily enough, then gone strangely silent when Derek and Laura had broached the subject of returning to Beacon Hills. Derek was starting to worry.

“Stiles,” Derek said. “Opinions?” He wanted desperately to reach across the kitchen table to take Stiles’ hands in his own, but he didn’t want to influence what Stiles thought in any way.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked.

“Am I sure that I want your opinion?” Derek asked, confused.

“No, dumbass,” Stiles said with a small smile, lightly smacking Derek on the arm. “Are you sure you guys want to go back? I mean, isn’t that going to be hard for you guys?”

“It might be hard,” Derek said. “But it’s my home.”

“It is,” Laura said. “We’re not making any decisions right now. I just wanted to see what we were all feeling.”

“Well, in that case,” Stiles said, smiling slowly. “I’d love it. I mean, my lease is almost up, my job is annoying and I could easily freelance instead, and I miss my dad and Scott.”

“You’d be fine with dropping everything and just leaving?” Laura asked, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “New York was for school, a great big adventure, you know? It was never supposed to be permanent. I only have like ten credits left and they’re all throwaway classes I can do online.”

“Adventure…you didn’t get enough of that with werewolves and kanimas?” Derek asked incredulously.

Stiles shrugged, unconcerned. “Intentional adventure,” he said. “Plus…it could save Erica.”

Derek didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m thinking about it,” Laura admitted. “I just need to think, okay?” They both nodded. Laura stood and slapped her hands on her thighs. “Okay, class dismissed. Don’t wait up.” And made her way out of the apartment before either of them could say anything.

“When’s your lease up?” Derek asked once Laura was gone.

“A month and a half. I have to give my notice soon if I’m not staying, though,” Stiles said.

“I think you should put your notice in,” Derek said, stroking a hand up Stiles’ arm. Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“You’re that sure that Laura will want to go back to Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked.

“No,” Derek answered. “But I think you should anyway.”

“Derek Hale,” Stiles said, smiling widely. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Yes,” Derek answered simply. Stiles beamed. 

“Oh hell yes,” Stiles said, all but launching himself into Derek’s lap, kissing him senseless.

“We practically live together already,” Derek pointed out, letting his hands rest on Stiles’ thighs.

“Not the same,” Stiles said, pecking Derek on the nose. “Now, take me to bed!”

Derek wrapped his hands around Stiles’ thighs and stood, lifting him easily, happy to oblige.

-

Neither Derek nor Stiles asked Laura about moving back to Beacon Hills for a few weeks, letting her marinate instead of bombarding her for an answer. Derek was a little worried; she smelled of stress and was holding herself with more tension than normal. He tentatively asked her if it was because Stile was living with them now.

“No!” Laura said, sounding genuinely shocked. “I like having the pack under one roof, it feels safer this way.”

“It does,” Derek agreed. “But you’re stressed.”

“Yes, I am,” Laura said. 

“Can I help?” Derek asked. Laura gave him a small smile.

“Lydia offered a spa day,” she said. “Though the idea of being touched on my back, neck, and shoulders all day by someone I don’t know sounds more stressful than relaxing if I’m honest. It’s fine, Derek. Really.”

Derek gave her a skeptical look but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“I didn’t even notice Stiles moved in at first,” Laura admitted, surprising a laugh out of Derek.

“What?” he asked.

“He basically lived here already! He brought, what, three boxes over?” Laura said defensively. Derek laughed harder. “Shut up!”

“I love you, god,” Derek gasped. “You’re perfect.”

“I hate you,” Laura grumbled.

“Lie.”

-

It was two months and another visit from Erica later when Laura sat Derek and Stiles down after their Saturday morning run.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked immediately, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him. Derek set his hand on Stiles’ back, hands clenching.

“Nothing,” Laura said, making Derek’s chest unclench in relief. “I just think it’s time we discus Beacon Hills.”

Derek’s hand spasmed on Stiles’ back. His human put a hand on Derek’s thigh and squeezed, offering what comfort he could. 

“Okay,” Stiles said warily.

“Derek and my lease is up in two months. We aren’t going to renew it,” Laura said. “I’ve been in touch with a contractor in Beacon Hills. They’re going to send us plans to rebuild that house for us to approve in the next few weeks.”

Next to Derek, Stiles’ jaw was hanging open, eyes twitching like he was trying to figure out what to say. Derek was right there with him, somewhat dumbstruck. His chest felt funny, a bit tight he was being squeezed a little too tightly. It was one thing to discuss going back, to figure out he wanted it, and another thing completely to realize it’s happening. Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ hand on his thigh, probably holding a little too tightly, and stared at Laura.

“You’re sure?”

“I am,” Laura said. “Completely. I went back and forth about whether or not to rebuild, but it wouldn’t be right not to. It’d be weird to set up somewhere else, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, it would,” Derek said. “What…when…”

“What’s the plan?” Stiles asked, saving Derek from his inability to articulate just what he wanted to say. “Where do we go from here?”

“First thing’s first, we rebuild. Until then, we rent a place, big enough for all of us,” Laura said.

“Do you want me to talk to Scott about us coming back?” Stiles asked.

“I think I should do it,” Laura said. “It’s not exactly alpha to alpha, but it’s more respectful for me to talk to him myself instead of make it seem like I’m manipulating him through his best friend. Your brotherhood with Scott is important, Stiles. I don’t want to put it in jeopardy.”

Stiles positively beamed.

“But I do need your advice on what to do about Erica,” Laura said.

The smile slipped off of Stiles’ face, his expression instantly turning serious.

“What are the options?” Derek asked.

“I think we have two ways to go about it,” Laura said. “One, we just take Erica and leave. We don’t give the Hardwicks a heads-up, or ask permission, we just go. Two, we go through proper channels. We state our intentions, let Andrew know that Erica will be switching packs and breaking the pack bond. Thoughts?”

“What happens when we go through proper channels and we do is piss him off?” Stiles asked.

“Pack law doesn’t force anyone to stay against their will,” Derek said.

“We’ve seen alphas force their pack to do shit like that all the time!” Stiles said.

“Pack law _says_ you can’t,” Derek corrected. “It’s still completely possible to do. It comes down to whether or not Andrew Hardwick follows pack law.”

“Suppose he doesn’t follow pack law,” Stiles said. “What happens then?”

“Could be anywhere from being offended and forcing Erica to stay, to taking us approaching him as an act of war and slaughter us all,” Laura said with a sigh.

Stiles was silent, frowning down at the ground. It was a look Derek knew well, one that Stiles wore when trying to work out a particularly difficult and annoying problem.

“You guys have met him,” Stiles said. “How do you think he’ll react?”

Derek waited a beat, then said, “Not well.”

“I don’t know if he on his own would force Erica to stay, but I think with his wife being the way she is, it’s likely she’d blow a gasket,” Laura said. “So I don’t think he’d let go, no. Christina Hardwick would see it as too much of an insult and a disruption of her grand werewolf eugenics plan.”

“Okay, so what is she just leaves without telling them?” Stiles asked. “From what Lydia and I have read, a beta needs to voluntarily submit and be bitten by a new alpha to join their pack and break links to the old one, right?”

“Right,” Derek confirmed, a little surprised that Stiles and Lydia had been able to find out so much about pack dynamics without ever having a real pack.

“Which is fine in theory,” Laura said. “But what we would need to do it get her out of New York and into Beacon Hills where we can do the bite and tie her to me and the land. And we’d need to do it all before the Hardwicks realize she’s gone or else he could still use his alpha influence to control her.”

“Even from across the country?” Stiles asked incredulously. 

“If the alpha is powerful enough,” Derek said quietly. “She never used it to control us, but our mother said she could feel Laura and me when we were in Europe with our Uncle Peter.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand like he always did when he talked about his family.

“Okay,” Stiles said, exhaling harshly. “So it comes down to this. If we inform them that Erica is joining out pack, they’ll probably refuse to let her leave, possibly hurt her.”

“Yeah,” Laura said.

“And if we just take her and go, we need to basically run for it and hope they don’t catch us until we’re safe in Beacon Hills. And even if we pull that off, they’re eventually going to notice. What do we do then?” Stiles asked.

“She’ll already be pack, so they can’t take her back unless they start a war over it,” Laura said.

“Would they?”

“Not over a wayward beta,” Derek said, though he knew he didn’t sound too convincing. “If they take it as a big enough insult…it’s hard for me to believe that the Hardwick pack would send someone cross-country on a vendetta for a beta that isn’t blood related or directly bitten.”

“But?” Stiles asked.

“But werewolves are possessive and territorial,” Laura said. “There’s no real way to say what they’d do.”

“So basically, they’re going to be insulted either way,” Stiles said. “Unless we ask permission for Erica to switch packs, Andrew and Christina suddenly become flowery Hallmark movie people and are deeply moved by Erica’s desire to be happy, which they haven’t ever cared about so far.”

“Yep,” Laura said. 

“Then we take her and run,” Stiles said, then seemed to realize he’d more or less just given his alpha an order and said, “I mean, that’s my opinion. We take her and go. They’re gonna be mad no matter what, at least this way we’ll be far away.”

“It’s dangerous,” Derek pointed out. “We’d have to talk to Erica.”

“She’ll agree,” Stiles said confidently. “Better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.”

“Was that your motto in high school?” Derek asked.

“You know it. Hey, I never went to jail, not even for stealing a police van, so it’s all good.”

“Stealing…what?”

“Oh, I’ll have to tell you about that later. It’s a bomb-ass story.”

“Boys,” Laura interrupted. “Back on topic. I agree with Stiles. It’s safer for all of us, especially Erica. Derek?”

“Agreed,” Derek said. “So when do we do this?”

-

Getting in touch with Erica was a lot harder than Derek had anticipated. He’d been tasked with contacting her since, even though Erica got along well with all of them, she and Derek had a better rapport. Derek was ready to put his head through a wall.

Erica had a cell phone, but the Hardwick compound was spotty on reception, which made him wary of texting or leaving a message since he had no idea when it would actually go through. They had a landline but he was even less comfortable calling that than her cell.

“I should send her a honing pigeon,” Derek grumbled when he and Stiles were doing laundry a few nights later in their building’s basement. Stiles laughed.

“Did you already call her?” Stiles asked. Derek gave him a flat look.

“No, Stiles, I completely ignored they most obvious and simple method of communication,” Derek deadpanned. “ _Yes_ I called her, she didn’t answer and I didn’t want to leave a voicemail in case someone else got ahold of it or overheard.”

“What about Facebook?” Stiles asked. Derek looked at him blankly. “Oh my god. She has a Facebook, Derek.”

“She does?”

“You know, I made you a profile so you can keep in contact with people,” Stiles said.

“You and Laura are the only people I contact,” Derek said, shrugging.

“And now Erica. And Scott, Boyd, Isaac,” Stiles pointed out.

“Scott, Boyd, and Isaac can contact me through you or Laura if for some reason they have to,” Derek said.

“It’s not about _needing_ to, it’s about wanting to!” Stiles said. “Connecting with people, bonding, getting to know them! And Facebook stalking, but that’s a whole different, sneaky ballpark.”

“I still can’t message Erica on the Facebook and tell her we want to talk to her alone. If someone sees and starts asking questions, it could be dangerous,” Derek said.

“First of all, ‘the Facebook’? Derek, are you 80? Jesus, okay,” Stiles said. “So, tell her you want to talk to her about that breeding bullshit they keep making her push. Say you’re interested. She’ll probably get right away that you’re lying and need to talk about something else and if anyone else from her pack sees it, it’ll put her in their good graces and make it easier for her to slip out. Oh, and definitely do it on Facebook, you can’t lie worth a shit on the spot.”

Derek waited until Stiles was done folding his shirt, then yanked him into his chest. Stiles let out a high-pitched squeak but managed to keep his feet under him as Derek ran his hands up and down Stiles’ arms. 

“I can see why Scott always made you the planner,” Derek said, kissing Stiles’ nose.

“I’m an evil genius, it’s a hard burden to bear,” Stiles said dramatically, but wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. “And in exchange for my brilliant idea, after you message Erica, you’re going to add Scott, Isaac, and Boyd. Oh! And Melissa! Maybe I should make my dad an account…”

Derek groaned.

-

Derek was not a technophobe, okay? He _wasn’t_. But god, he hated Facebook. He’d spent the better part of a half hour trying to figure out how to find Erica, Stiles cackling over his shoulder. Apparently that got boring because eventually Stiles took pity on him and helped him find Erica and showed him how to send her a private message (“Oh my god, not on her wall! That’s public!”), then proceeded to quickly add Scott, Boyd, and Isaac.

“What’d you just do?” Derek asked when a little red number appeared in the top corner.

“Boyd accepted your friend request,” Stiles said, clicking on the notification. A message popped up a second later next to Boyd’s stoic face.

**’Is this actually Derek, or is this Stiles having boundary issues?’**

“Hey!” Stiles squawked indignantly, grabbing for the keyboard. Derek pulled it away and bumped Stiles with his shoulder, effectively blocking him from the laptop. Stiles tried to get around Derek but, of course, failed miserably.

_‘It’s Derek. I’ve been blackmailed into this.’_

**’Make sure you change your password. Stiles is hell when he gets into people’s accounts.’**

Stiles made an offended noise.

_‘I don’t find that hard to believe at all.’_

**’Does he still like to take horrible pictures of people while they’re sleeping? Because he’ll put those online.’**

_‘He’s moved on to pictures while you’re eating.’_

**’That explains your profile picture.’**

Derek frowned in confusion, then saw the little picture of his face in the corner of the page. There was a burrito in his mouth, the innards dripping down his chin.

“STILES!”

-

A few days later, Derek’s phone pinged when he was under the hood of a BMW owned by the most persnickety old lady Derek had ever met (she insisted that Derek be the only person that worked on her car and always tried to slip a $20 bill into the waistband of his pants. It was a mess.).

When he finally was able to check his phone a few hours later, he found a message waiting from Erica.

**’Hey Derek! That’s so great to hear! And alliance between our packs would be incredible! Christina is so glad you want to speak with me about that and suggested we meet for coffee this Friday at 2:00 p.m. Are you amenable to that? All the best!  
-Erica’**

Derek almost choked on his uvula to fight back a laugh. He’d bet his whole paycheck that Christina had been sitting beside Erica, telling her exactly what to write. Chuckling slightly, he typed out a response.

_‘Dearest Erica. I would be honored to meet you Friday. Shall we say the quaint little bakery on 7th? Laura sends her warmest regards to you and your pack. Love, Derek.’_

_There,_ Derek thought. _Stiles should get a kick out of that._

-

Stiles laughed so hard that he choked on a bite of his sandwich and Laura had to do the Heimlich. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles wheezed. “You two are the least polite and eloquent people on the fucking planet, how can Christina not know you’re full of shit!?”

“I can be polite and eloquent,” Derek said with a frown. 

“Your dirty talk is eloquent,” Stiles said. Laura hit him in the back of the head. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I should have said you’re succinct and not very…flowery.”

“I can’t believe _you_ called _me_ impolite,” Derek grumbled.

“You’re _both_ assholes,” Laura piped in happily.

“Pot, kettle,” Stiles said.

“Well we’re just a pack of assholes.”

“Gross.”

-

Derek was worried that Christina would insist on accompanying Erica on their coffee date, but luckily when Derek opened the door to the small, family-owned bakery, Erica was alone, curled up in a soft-looking chair in the far corner. She smiled and raised her mug in salute while Derek got in line.

Derek watched Erica out of the corner of his eye while the harassed barista tried to make his drink and four others, all while being hit on by a sleazy guy who refused to order anything. A glare from Derek sent the guy backing away and heading to the door. The barista shot him a grateful smile and he heard Erica snort from her corner.

Derek turned his glare to her, which of course just made her laugh. He couldn’t find it in him to be mad. The last time he’d seen Erica, she hadn’t laughed once and they could barely get her to smile. It loosened something in Derek’s chest to see her like this; relaxed, happier. When he sat across from her with a plate with two warm cookies, her face lit up so much that Derek’s heart broke a little.

 

“What up, sourwolf?” Erica said. Derek gave her a flat look.

“Did Stiles tell you to say that?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, now that I say it though, it sounds too much like a couple-y nickname. Gross.”

“I’m so glad we set this up,” Derek deadpanned.

“Yeah, why did we set this up?” Erica asked. “Not that I don’t like seeing you and all, but I assume you’re not actually interested in making little werewolf babies with me.”

Derek choked on his latte, a bit of foam shooting out of his nose. Erica hunched over laughing, stomping her foot and nearly crying.

“We’re in public,” Derek hissed.

“Oh please, no one heard,” Erica said with an eye roll. “Even if they had, they would’ve thought we were talking about Twilight or something.”

“You never know who could be a hunter,” Derek said seriously.

“Yeah, yeah, you killjoy,” Erica said, though she looked a little contrite. “But really, no babies, right?”

“No babies,” Derek confirmed. “We have a proposition.”

“We?” 

“Laura, Stiles, and I,” Derek said. “It would be better if we weren’t overheard.”

“Okay, that explains your weird-ass Facebook message,” Erica said. “Well, no one came down with me. Christina thinks I’m doing something right and accessing your loins.” Derek grimaced. “So yeah, she sent me alone. Probably hoping you’ll knock me up so she can force you into a marriage.”

“I’m not surprised at all that you and Stiles get along,” Derek said.

“Birds of a feather are weirdos together,” Erica sing-songed. “But anyway. No eavesdroppers. You said you have a proposition?”

“We’re going back to California,” Derek said. Erica’s face fell before going carefully blank. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit hard enough that Derek could smell the coppery tang of blood.

“Oh,” she said. Her heart was beating like a rabbit’s, reminding Derek of Stiles’ when he was about to have a panic attack.

“We want you to come with us,” Derek said. Erica stared at him, like the words didn’t compute. “Laura, Stiles, and I. We want you to come with us.”

“Permanently?” Erica asked, face tentatively hopeful. “Like…me joining your pack?”

“Permanently,” Derek said. “We want you to be pack.”

Derek barely had time to brace himself before Erica was launching herself over the coffee table between them, hugging Derek tightly. He ignored the wet drops hitting his neck.

-

“Erica’s in?” Stiles asked as soon as Derek walked in the front door.

“Did you have any doubt that she would be?” Derek asked.

“Nah,” Stiles said with a shrug. “You never know, though. People can be weird.”

“No kidding,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles stuck out his tongue, then said,” So, when are we doing this?”

“I have to talk to Laura, but Erica said Andrew and Christina are going to visit a pack in Connecticut for a weekend in three weeks,” Derek said. “It might be the best opportunity we’ll get.”

“Let me guess, they’re going on another breeder recruitment mission?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Apparently the Connecticut pack has too many men and not enough women. They’re trying to organize a trade.”

“That’s sick,” Stiles said, lip curled in disgust.

“It is,” Derek agreed, wrapping Stiles up in his arms.

“Lucky for me,” Stiles said with a smirk, trailing a hand between them to brush over the front of Derek’s jeans. “I have exclusive access to this wonderful, magic dick, and everyone else will just have to get in line. If anyone has breeding rights, it’s me.”

“You’re making it sound like some kind of theme park attraction,” Derek said, his voice breathy as he tried to hide just how much he liked the sound of that. Stiles rubbed his hand harder over Derek’s hardening cock.

“The one everyone wants to ride,” Stiles said with a wink. Derek groaned, dropping his forehead onto Stiles’ shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek said, breath hitching as Stiles massaged him. Stiles chuckled in his ear.

“Do you want me to stop?” Stiles asked, unbuttoning Derek’s jeans and slipping a hand inside.

“No,” Derek said, almost panting.

“I want to hear you say it, Derek,” Stiles said, wrapping a hand around Derek’s hard cock, making him whimper. 

“Don’t stop,” Derek gasped, burrowing his face into Stiles’ neck. “Stiles, please don’t stop, fuck.”

“Okay, baby, it’s okay,” Stiles said, stroking Derek through his boxer briefs. “Tell me what you want, Derek.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Derek whispered, tongue darting out to taste Stiles’ neck. “You haven’t fucked me in so long.” He knew his voice was needy, almost a whine, but he didn’t care. They’d both been so busy lately that they haven’t had time for much beyond a quick blowjob and god, Derek missed feeling Stiles deep inside him.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah, puppy, we can do that,” he said. He tugged Derek down the hall toward their room, both ridding themselves of their clothes along the way.

By the time Derek was lying on their bed, the sheets cool against his back, his cock was fully hard and leaking precome onto his stomach. Stiles stood above, slowly jacking himself and staring down at Derek.

“Stiles…” Derek said, desperately needing him to do something, anything.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, blinking like he’d been in a trance. “You just look so good like this.”

Derek felt himself blush but learned long ago not to argue with Stiles when he complimented him. Stiles was rooting around in the nightstand drawer, finally coming back to kneel next to Derek on the bed.

“Spread your legs for me, baby, let me see you,” Stile said, coaxing Derek with a hand on his knee. “That’s it, so good for me.”

Derek closed his eyes and threw his head back when Stiles’ first slick finger slid inside. It’d been long enough that one finger was a bit of a stretch, but not unpleasantly so. Stiles’ fingers were perfect, long and so good at brushing his prostate. Not enough to make him come, just enough to torture him.

“More,” Derek gasped out. “I can take another.”

“Fuck, okay,” Stiles said.

This was one of Derek’s favorite feelings in the world, being stuffed full of Stiles’ long fingers, being stretched and his rim being tugged open. All of Stiles’ attention was on him, on his hole that was just trying to suck another finger inside.

“Just one more, don’t want to hurt you,” Stiles said.

Stiles circled Derek’s rim then slowly pushed his ring finger in, twisting his hand so that his knuckles dragged against Derek’s prostate, making him keen. Derek rocked into Stiles’ gentle thrusts, desperately trying to get him deeper. 

Stiles laughed softly but pulled his fingers out and poured more lube into his hand, liberally slicking up his cock before lining himself up to Derek’s hole. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Derek groaned. The head of Stiles’ cock was pressing gently right up against Derek’s hole, not giving nearly enough force to actually slide in.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stiles said, faking ignorance. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” Derek hissed. “I need you inside me now, fuck, Stiles, please, please.”

“Jesus,” Stiles whispered. “Okay, it’s okay.”

Stiles leaned over to kiss Derek sweetly, and pushed in with one long thrust.

Derek cried out, clinging to Stiles’ back as he pounded into him. He loved topping, loved to feel Stiles clenching around him, but this was just amazing. Stiles’ cock wasn’t huge, but he was long and slightly curved so he dragged across Derek’s prostate with almost every thrust.

“So good, feel so good, Derek,” Stiles said. “Always so perfect.”

Before Derek could answer, Stiles grabbed him by the hips and slammed in deeper, setting a brutal pace that had Derek reaching up to the headboard to brace himself.

Usually, ironically, Derek was the one who talked in bed; he loved telling Stiles exactly what he was going to do to him, how good he looked all fucked out with Derek’s come seeping out of his ass. But now it was Stiles spilling pure filth between curses, gasping out praise while fucking Derek harder and harder.

Pleasure built up in Derek, so much but he couldn’t quite get there. He reached down to touch himself but Stiles batted him away, instead wrapping his own hand around Derek’s angry, leaking cock.

“Gonna come, Stiles, gonna come,” Derek warned. It was too much, Stiles’ beautiful cock stretching him open and those long fingers jacking his cock, rubbing at his slit where he was leaking precome.

“Then come,” Stiles said, leaning over to drape him body over Derek’s. He licked up Derek’s neck before whispering in his ear, “Come all over me.”

Derek was coming before Stiles had even finished speaking, spilling between them with Stiles’ name on his lips. Stiles fucked him through it until his cock was twitching inside of Derek, filling him with come.

Derek loved the feeling of Stiles inside of him, even when they weren’t fucking, so he smiled happily when Stiles didn’t pull out, instead settling on top of Derek.

“Love you,” Stiles said into Derek’s neck, pressing a soft kiss over Derek’s thudding pulse.

Derek felt like he was floating. He ran his hands up Stiles’ back before wrapping them around the smaller man and burying his face in his hair. He was lucky, so fucking lucky.

“I love you, too,” Derek said, never meaning any words more than he did those.

-

Laura was on board with the three week timeline. Now that they had a deadline, she threw herself into getting a plan together, with considerable help from Lydia. There were more than a few long Skype sessions between all four of them to hash out the details.

Derek participated his fair share, but was more than happy to sit back and listen while Stiles and Lydia let their conniving minds loose. It was fascinating, really, to watch the two of them communicate. They barely needed complete sentences, sometimes only a few words, and the other would immediately latch onto the same train of thought. Most of the time, he and Laura had no idea how they got from A to B, but that was just as well; Derek had the feeling that delving too deeply into their brain trust would just give him a headache.

The ‘insurance policy,’ as Stiles called it, was Lydia’s idea. It was a contingency plan for if the Hardwicks decided to cut their long weekend short. Part one was relatively straightforward, though Derek was sure, impossible. Some guy Lydia and Stiles knew named Danny was going to hack into Connecticut’s police database and put an APB out on Andrew’s car, then one of them would call in an anonymous tip that they’d seen it.

“There is no way that will work,” Derek said.

Lydia gave him an extremely condescending look. “Sweetie, it’ll work,” she said. “Stiles has convinced Danny to do much worse for much less.”

Derek arched an eyebrow. “Convinced him how?” Derek asked.

“The fact that they were dating helped,” Lydia said.

Stiles groaned. “Lydia, can we not?” Stiles grumbled, then turned to Derek. “He was the one I told you about, the one I dated in high school.”

Derek frowned. “We’re getting help from your ex?”

“He’s a good hacker. He helped me track someone’s phone senior year, hell, he got into the FBI database for shits and giggles,” Stiles said. “He knows about werewolves, plus he owes me a favor.”

“Aw, that’s Derek’s jealous face,” Laura said from Stiles’ other side.

“I hate you,” Derek said.

“Aw, boo,” Stiles cooed, cuddling up to Derek’s shoulder. “You know you’ve ruined me for anyone else.” Derek smiled despite himself and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ nose.

 

 _“Disgusting,”_ Lydia said dryly. Derek glanced to the laptop screen to see Lydia filing her nails, looking bored. _“Anyway. That’ll take a bit for Hardwick to sort out. In case that doesn’t work, there will also be a bit of a mix-up with their bank. Identity theft can be such a nuisance.”_  
  
Laura was staring at the screen fondly. “I love your maniacal plots.”

Lydia’s answering grin was fierce. _“Oh love, you just wait to see what I can do.”_

“Anyway,” Stiles said loudly, interrupting Laura and Lydia’s eye-fucking. “Derek and I are going to do something, anything, uh, away from here. So, wait ‘til we’re gone for Skype sex because, ew. Not ew, I mean, oh god, fuck it, Derek, let’s just _go_.”

-

A week before they were due to leave for Beacon Hills, Laura approved the plans for the new Hale house, forking over an impressive amount of money to have the project expedited. It would still take plenty of time, but they were talking months instead of years, so Derek could live with it.

Three days before they were set to fly out, their belongings, at least the ones they cared about enough to keep, were sent to California, along with Laura’s car, under Lydia’s name.

“She would make both an excellent party planner and an excellent spy,” Laura commented.

“Well, she’s pretty much done both, so,” Stiles said with a shrug.

The day before they were going to get Erica and leave, Stiles started getting the jitters. Derek had been trying to sleep for two hours on the shitty air mattress they were stuck with since their bed had been shipped, but Stiles’ squirming was making it impossible. 

“Stiles,” Derek growled, throwing an arm over the other man’s chest, stilling his movements. “Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m trying,” Stiles said with a groan, flipping over onto his stomach and making the air mattress jostle Derek enough that he almost fell off. Stiles grimaced. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Derek said.

“I’m just a worrier, it’s what I do, I worry about the people that matter to me and there is so much that could go wrong and yeah, we planned for all the variables that we could, but there are so many we can’t account for, and you’ll never be able to come back to New York which has been your home for years. Oh Jesus, what if Erica can’t slip away? What if you get hurt, I can’t-”

“Stop,” Derek said, pulling Stiles up with him into a sitting position and taking his face in his hands. “We’ve done what we can. This will work, Stiles. We’ll get Erica out safe and we won’t get hurt.”

“You can’t promise that,” Stiles argued.

Derek shrugged. “You’re right, but I still believe it.”

Stiles groaned, letting Derek lower them both back to the mattress. “You’re not going to miss it at all?” Stiles asked from where he was buried face-first in Derek’s chest. “You guys have lived here for what, thirteen years?”

“New York was never home,” Derek said easily, rubbing his big hands up and down Stiles’ bare back. “And I’m bringing back the only thing I care about anyway.”

-

Derek, Laura, and Stiles were parked in a rented car three miles away from the Hardwick territory line. It was 3:15 am, pitch black, though that didn’t matter for the werewolves, and eerily silent. 

“Erica should have been here by now,” Stiles said quietly, eyes trained on the dark tree line. “She said 2:00.”

“She estimated 2:00,” Laura said calmly. “She also said she couldn’t guarantee that.”

“She could have run into a patrol, or got caught sneaking out of the lodges,” Stiles said.

Derek reached into the backseat, taking Stiles’ hand in his and rubbing soothing circle over the thin skin. “Relax, Stiles, we just need to give her time,” Derek said.

“We need to be at the airport in an hour,” Stiles pointed out.

“Lydia has us booked on the next two flights in case we can’t get there,” Laura said. “It’ll be okay, Stiles.”

Laura’s tone was soothing, but Derek could feel the undercurrent of tension and he would bet good money that Stiles could, too.

Stiles poked his head in between the seats and leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder. “I hate this,” Stiles whispered. “I hate waiting.”

“I know,” Derek said, kissing the top of Stiles’ head. “We can’t get any closer to their territory line safely.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles mumbled, sticking his face into Derek’s neck.

Derek didn’t blame Stiles one bit for being nervous. It wasn’t official yet, but it already felt like Erica was pack. She was theirs and the possibility that she could be hurt was putting his wolf more and more on edge. He was about to say fuck it and go look for her when Laura stilled next to him.

“Look,” she said quietly, pointing to the dark tree line. Derek followed her finger, unsure of what he was looking for. Then, a low branch moved and he caught a flash of blonde hair.

“Erica,” Derek said, sighing in relief.

Laura jumped out of the car and ran to the girl, yanking her into a hug. Derek and Stiles followed a second later, waiting for Laura to be done looking Erica over. 

“I’m fine,” Erica promised, hitching her heavy-looking duffle bag higher on her shoulder. “Can we go, though? I don’t think anyone saw me but let’s not risk it, okay?”

“Yeah, come on,” Derek said, pulling her to the car. He took her bag from her and tossed it into the trunk before crawling into the backseat with Stiles.

“You all right?” Stiles asked.

Erica turned around, grin fierce. “So, so much better, I’m fucking stoked! Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Laura laughed and peeled out as fast and the rented Prius would allow.

-

Hilariously, Erica loved flying. Stiles still clung to the arm rests like the floor was about to drop from beneath them at any time, but Erica stuck her face right against the window, gleefully watching the ground get farther and farther away. Her childlike enthusiasm made Derek grin, even with Stiles doing best to crush all the bones in Derek’s hand.

Eventually, Erica and Stiles fell asleep, exhausted from being up so late and the stress of sneaking Erica out. The plane’s lights were dimmed, most of the passengers asleep at 6:00 am, but Derek could hear Laura’s heartbeat and knew she was still awake. He leaned across the aisle to where Erica and Laura were sitting (that was the great thing about flying first class on a 757, only two seats per row) and poked her in the shoulder.

Laura cracked open an eye and glared. “What?” she asked.

“What’s keeping you up?” he asked.

“What’s keeping _you_ up?” she asked. 

“You being up,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“Just thinking,” Laura said.

“That’s new,” Derek couldn’t help but say. 

Laura punched him in the arm. “Asshole.”

“Well, yeah.”

They descended into silence again, nothing but the humming of the plane as background noise.

“I’m worried,” Laura finally said, like it hurt her to admit.

“You’d be stupid not to worry,” Derek said.

“There’s just so much that could go wrong,” Laura said.

“It’s better than being stagnant,” Derek said. “You’re a good alpha. You’re doing what’s best for your pack. You’re bringing them home, and giving a home to a girl who’s never really had one. And you’re doing it to protect her, not to use her as a bargaining chip like her old pack. You’re a good alpha.”

To Derek’s horror, Laura’s eyes filled with tears, but then she was flinging herself across the aisle, hugging Derek so hard that his back cracked.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” she whispered.

Derek hugged her tighter, not pointing out that he was the lucky one.

-

There was a rental car waiting, reserved under the name Sam Scott (“Why do you have a fake ID, Stiles, or, ‘Sam’?” “Do you really want the answer to that?”) and they wasted no time getting on the road. Thanks to the time difference, it was almost 9:00 am when they finally got on the freeway. The drive to Beacon Hills would take a couple hours, getting them into town somewhere around lunch time.

Derek was beyond ready to be done with the drive. He and Laura hadn’t considered the ramifications of a sleep-deprived Erica and Stiles combined with coffee. He’d made Laura pull over twenty minutes in and forced Erica into the backseat and took over the front so she and Stiles weren’t shouting back and forth. Laura kind of looked like she wanted to cry.

“I will pay each of you $200 if you can stop talking for the next hour,” Laura desperately said.

Shockingly, it actually worked. There was a lot of texting, the occasional giggle of gesture, but Derek could easily live with that. By the time they passed the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills!’ sign, Erica and Stiles had finally mellowed out. Derek was so, so happy.

As much as they’d like to go straight to Stiles’ house to see his dad, then to the loft they’d rented and settle in, they couldn’t. Instead of driving straight into town, Laura took the road that led into the preserve, not stopping until they reached the beginning of the driveway of the Hale house. They needed to bind Erica to them as soon as possible.

“We aren’t going to the house?” Stiles asked.

“No, the construction crew is already there. I don’t want to have to explain why we’re disappearing into the woods for a few hours,” Laura said, parking on the side of the road. “It would probably be better to do this under the full moon or something, but Deaton said today is fine.”

Hiking through the trees was no hardship for Derek, Laura, and Erica, but Stiles seemed to stumble and curse every few minutes. It was slower moving with him than it would’ve been without, but it was important for Stiles to be present and eventually, they reached the same clearing where Stiles had been brought into the pack four months ago.

“What, no gross-smelling paste and druid symbols?” Stiles asked, hunched over and clutching at a stitch in his side.

“She’s not human,” Laura pointed out. “It’s much more straightforward for us. Erica, take off your shirt.”

Erica did, not even questioning why. Derek smirked as Stiles sputtered next to him, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“Oh my god, why is there stripping? Is this a pack orgy thing because I so did not sign up for that,” Stiles rambled, back to Erica and hand still covering his eyes.

“Relax, Stiles, no orgy,” Derek said with an eye roll.

“Is it safe to look?” Stiles asked.

“Yes.”

“Liar.” 

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Boys,” Laura said. “Stiles, turn around.”

Stile reluctantly listened, very pointedly keeping his gaze at Erica’s forehead. Derek snorted and kissed the side of his head.

“Damn, no orgy,” Erica said with a leer, but she smelled coppery, like anxiety. “So…what exactly are you going to do?” Derek didn’t have to be a wolf to hear the way her voice wavered.

“I’m assuming you were bitten on your side, right?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, right here,” Erica said, letting her right hand rest on the flesh of her torso, right above her waist.

“I’m going to bite you there,” Laura said. Erica’s eyes widened a bit.

“Why?” Erica asked.

“To sever the bond between you and your old pack and forge a new one with ours,” Laura said.

“That’s all it takes? How come alphas aren’t running around, stealing betas left and right?” Stiles asked.

“It’s also about intent,” Derek said. “They both need to strongly believe and want it, you can’t force an allegiance.”

“Okay,” Erica said, no longer sounding anxious, merely nervous. “What do I do?”

“Lie down,” Laura said.

The rustle of leaves was loud when Erica lay down, wincing at the cold ground on her skin. Her face was stoic, but her eyes were a little wide and Derek could hear her heart racing.

“This is so weird,” Stiles muttered.

Derek agreed. Erica was lying on her side, topless, while Laura crouched next to her, fangs out, mouth hovering over the skin of Erica’s side. 

“Breathe,” Laura said softly, then bit down. 

Erica screamed. The copper tang of blood reached Derek’s nose and Stiles flinched beside him. The wound on Erica’s side was bleeding sluggishly, unable to heal as quickly as normal. Then she started convulsing.

“What happened?” Derek asked, rushing forward, falling to his knees next to Erica and Laura, Stiles following him a second later.

“I don’t know,” Laura said, hands fluttering over Erica’s shaking body. “Should I turn her over?”

“No, keep her on her side, and don’t touch her,” Stiles said, batting Derek and Laura’s hands away from Erica. “She’s having a seizure, you have to wait it out. How is she having a seizure, I thought the bite cured epilepsy?”

“It does,” Laura said. “I think Andrew Hardwick is fighting the breaking of their pack bond.”

Now that Derek focused on it, he could feel Erica fluttering on the periphery of the bond, like it was struggling to form. With Stiles, it had snapped right into place. Erica was on the edge, being stretched between two alphas, two packs.

“No, he does not get to take you,” Laura hissed. “You’re stronger than this. We love you, he doesn’t. You’re ours and we won’t let them take you.”

Derek didn’t know if it helped, but he grasped at those tenuous threads connecting him to Erica and pulled, willing them to solidify, to bind Erica to them. He could feel Laura and Stiles doing the same, Laura whispering encouragement the whole time. 

“You’re fierce, Erica. You can fight him on this, he doesn’t own you. He’s nothing, you’re so much better, you deserve so much more,” Laura said. “Come on, fight for us!”

All they could do was watch and wait, desperately willing it to work. It was probably only a few minutes but to Derek’s frayed nerves, it felt like hours, agonizingly able to do nothing but watch as Erica seized in front of them.

Then she stilled and for one heart-stopping moment, Derek was afraid it was because her body had lost and given up on her, but then the bond snapped into place, slamming into him just like the force of nature that Erica was, and he let himself breathe again.

Erica stirred in front of them, groaning and Laura immediately reached out, helping her sit up.

“Well that’s some bullshit, I didn’t miss having those,” Erica said, voice hoarse.

“It worked, right?” Stiles asked. “I mean, it feels like it did, but I just want to make sure, it worked?”

“Yeah,” Laura said, helping Erica to her feet. “Yeah, it worked.”

Erica’s answering smile was blinding. She tugged Laura in for a hug, quickly joined by Derek and Stiles. Derek inhaled deeply and clutched at the people in his arms, giving him what he’d been missing for so long.

-

To say that Derek was underwhelmed by the loft Laura had rented for them was a gross understatement. The front door wasn’t even a door as much as a large, sliding metal monstrosity. He was surprised Stiles even had the upper body strength to open it.

The whole building was a converted warehouse, so it had a very industrial, we-are-trying-to-be-trendy look. It was big, though, like Laura promised, with five huge bedrooms up a spiral staircase that Stiles absolutely loved.

Derek hadn’t really paid attention when they first got back from the preserve, all of them just piling onto a king mattress in the master bedroom in a puppy pile, exhausted from the flight and from tying Erica to them. Erica was so tired she was barely walking on her own, all energy zapped from the seizure. They all cuddled around her, offering their support and welcoming her into the pack. It was only when they all pulled themselves out of bed twelve hours later that Derek really took a look around the loft.

“It’s just for a year, tops,” Laura said while Derek critically eyed the grimy windows. “It has exposed brick, that’s in right now!”

“ _Clean_ exposed brick is in right now,” Derek said, running a finger over the wall just to pull it back, gray and dirty. 

“Perfect, thank you for volunteering to clean it,” Laura said cheerfully. “Cleaning supplies are in the kitchen.” And really, Derek thought, he should have seen that coming. 

They spent the rest of the day cleaning, and Derek was eternally grateful for unscented cleaning supplies. Stiles got stuck with the bathrooms, which of course he’d complained about until Erica hit him in the head with a sponge. 

“Praise Lydia,” Stiles said later that night, flopping back onto the bed with a groan. “I wouldn’t have even thought of having the furniture set up before we got here. I would have told the mover to just dump everything in the middle of the room.”

As much as the scent of other people all over his bed and belongings made his noise twitch, he had to agree with Stiles. After the last two days they’d had, he would not have cared enough to put a bed together. So yeah, he was glad that Lydia had had the loft staged. Though he was going to do something about the color of curtains and the sheer amount of throw pillows.

“Don’t even think about it, dude. Lydia will actually kill you,” Stiles said, reading Derek’s mind. “Kill you dead.”

“There are throw pillows,” Derek grumbled. “There’s an area rug. And curtains.”

“Okay Mr. Burlap Sheets and Pallet Coffee Table, a little style isn’t going to kill you,” Stiles said. “Plus, it’s Lydia, you’re not going to find anything better. It’s even your style! Greys, dark greens, and blues!”

“It doesn’t smell like us,” Derek mumbled, feeling the tips of his eats heat. But Stiles just grinned slowly, rolling until he was straddling Derek. Derek’s hands automatically went to Stiles’ waist, cock already half-hard from the beautiful pressure of Stiles above him.

“Well, there’s an easy way to fix that,” Stiles said, punctuating his sentence with a roll of his hips.

“No!” Erica yelled, banging on the wall that separated their rooms. “No, no, no!”

“Boner-killer!” Stiles yelled back. He flopped to the side, sighing. “Please tell me the new house will be soundproofed.”

“Mostly. We’ll still be able to hear if someone shouts in case of an emergency, but we’ll be able to have all the loud sex we want. Until then, we’ll just have to be quiet,” Derek said. 

A loud thump came from the wall they shared with Laura. “Not tonight, you’re not!”

-

Erica’s phone had been blowing up all day and through the night with texts and calls from the Hardwick alpha and his wife. 

“ _They’re not back in New York, yet. They’re still dealing with the police in Connecticut about the APB on their car and the freeze on their bank accounts,”_ Lydia said when they called her. _”So, I wouldn’t worry yet, I doubt they know where Erica is.”_

“Thanks for this, Lydia,” Stiles said. “I really appreciate it.”

 _”Please, child’s play._ ” she said. _”It’s been fun, though. It’s been a while since I’ve really been able to ruin someone’s day._

“There’s the terrifying banshee I know and love. Thank Danny for me, too.”

_”I just hooked him up with a grad student I used to work with. Trust me, Danny is more than happy.”_

“Thanks, Lyds. I owe you.”

“We owe you,” Derek corrected.

 _”Ordinarily I’d say you’re damn right, but not this time,”_ Lydia said, voice turning serious. _”Saving a girl from an abusive pack? That’s a cause I can get behind. Stay safe over there.”_

So they continued to ignore the calls and texts before Laura finally thought of just crushing the phone, content with knowing that they didn’t need to face the inevitable fallout quite yet. It was three days later, right before a dinner at the sheriff’s, an opportunity for both packs to mingle, that Laura’s phone rang, Andrew Hardwick’s name lighting up the screen.

Derek noticed her freeze, heart stutter a bit, but Erica and Stiles didn’t, both obliviously chatting while pulling on their coats. Laura made eye contact with Derek, eyes a little wide but her face was determined. She didn’t answer the phone.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go ahead and take Stiles’ jeep, we’ll be right behind you,” Laura said.

Stiles looked at them suspiciously. “Why? Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Just have a call to make,” Laura said, sidestepping a direct answer so Erica wouldn’t hear her heart jump with a lie. Laura and Stiles had that in common; the uncanny ability to dance around the werewolf lie detector.

Stiles still looked unsure but Erica looped her arm through his and yanked him to the door, saying, “I was told there would be the best burgers of my life, don’t you dare keep me waiting.” Stiles gave Derek and Laura one more wary look, but let Erica pull him out of the loft, the heavy metal door clanging behind them.

Derek and Laura looked at the phone, which started ringing as if on cue. Laura took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself, and hit ‘answer’.

“Alpha Hardwick,” Laura said.

 _”Alpha Hale,”_ Andrew answered. His voice was hard and cold. _”The strangest thing has happened. Your scent was found on the perimeter of our territory. Faint, but there.”_

“Is that so.”

 _”Interestingly enough, that was the same night that a packmate of ours went missing,”_ he continued, not even acknowledging that Laura had spoken. _”Your apartment is also empty. What do you make of these bizarre coincidences?”_

“If you’d like to say something, just say it,” Laura said. “Dramatics are boring.”

 _”You came into our home, we let you live in our territory,”_ Andrew growled, voice going deep. Derek put a supportive hand on Laura’s shoulder. _”And this is how you repay us? By kidnapping one of my wolves?”_

“Kidnapping? We both know that’s a lie,” Laura scoffed. “If you actually thought we took her against her will, you wouldn’t have called, you would’ve come for her.”

 _”Don’t write it off, who says I won’t?”_ Andrew said. _”Sometimes it’s the alphas job to track down wayward packmates.”_

“But she isn’t in your pack anymore, is she?” Laura asked. Derek winced at the growl coming down the line.

_”Listen here, little girl-”_

“No, you listen,” Laura growled back. “She was miserable! She was exhausted, abused, and in pain. That’s not what pack is!”

_”You weren’t raised ignorant, you know pack protocols. You request an alpha’s permission before you take a wolf from their home! What exactly would you do, little alpha, if someone did that to you?”_

“If they were unhappy, I would have let them leave!” Laura said, sounding like her patience was barely hanging on by a thread. “I care about my pack.”

 _”Are you implying that I don’t?”_ Hardwick’s voice was dangerously low.

“I’m not implying, I’m saying,” Laura said. “I care about my pack. I don’t beat them until they can’t heal. I don’t pimp out underage girl to other packs. I don’t abuse my wolves.”

 _”Etiquette dictates you meet with a beta’s alpha regarding changing packs, not just sever a bond! Do you not comprehend how dangerous that is?”_ Andrew’s voice was tight and low, like he was trying not to yell. _”It’s a severe breach of-”_

“Okay, you know what, I’m 500% done with this,” Laura interrupted. “Erica is now a member of my pack, not yours. As her alpha, I will defend her with my life. That’s it. We have nothing more to say.”

 _”You’ve made an enemy of the Hardwick Pack,”_ he warned. _”You won’t be allowed to step into New York again.”_

“I’ll live. West coast has better seafood anyway,” Laura said and hung up. She exhaled harshly and let Derek pull her into a hug.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, stroking her hair.

“Yeah,” Laura said. She pulled back to run a hand over her face. “Yeah, wow that wasn’t fun. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go, they’re waiting for us.”

“You sure?” Derek asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sure,” Laura said. “Come on, you know Stiles will freak out if we’re not there soon.”

-

Laura was right. The Stilinski door flew open seconds after Derek rang the doorbell, revealing a wide-eyed Stiles who relaxed almost immediately on seeing them.

“Thank fuck,” Stiles exhaled harshly, yanking them both into a hug. “I thought it was Andrew.”

Laura exchanged a glance with Derek which, of course, Stiles saw. He opened his mouth but Laura clamped a hand over it.

“Pssshhhzz,” she hissed. Stiles made muffled noises against her hand. “You can keep licking my hand all you want, I grew up with four siblings and more cousins than I can count, I don’t give a fuck about saliva.”

“We’ll talk later,” Derek promised. “Okay?”

Stiles didn’t look happy but he nodded. Laura pulled her hand away then wiped the spit on her palm off on the side of Stiles’ face.

“Gross,” Stiles groaned. 

“Yeah, maybe you’ve learned not to do that again,” Laura said, pushing her way inside. Derek could hear her cheerfully greeting the sheriff in the kitchen, and he shifted his attention to Stiles.

“Hi,” Stiles said, leaning in to kiss Derek.

“Hi,” Derek mumbled against Stiles’ lips. “Everything going okay so far?”

“Yeah, my dad loves Erica, so they’ve been terrors,” Stiles said with an eye roll. “Scott and Co. will be here literally any minute – speak of the devil.”

A second after Stiles finished speaking, a silver sedan pulled up, followed by a beat-up pickup truck. Boyd and Isaac hopped out of the truck, looking unsure for a second if they were waiting for Scott, but Boyd appeared to just think fuck it, and started up the driveway.

“Hey guys,” Stiles said, grinning brightly as he hugged Boyd, then Isaac. “You miss me?”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said. He shook Derek’s hand then said, “Do I smell cornbread?” And just like that, he walked past Derek and Stiles, followed by Isaac, making tracks to the kitchen.

Heaviness settled in Derek’s stomach as Scott and Melissa got out of the sedan, followed by a very reluctant Allison.

 _Stiles’ friend,_ Derek reminded himself. _She’s Stiles’ friend, his ally. Trust Stiles’ opinion_ , which really, was easier said than done.

“Thank you for doing this,” Stiles said quietly, slipping his hand into Derek’s. “I know it’s not easy.”

“You come with Scott, Scott comes with her,” Derek said. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try.”

Stiles’ face softened. “Thank you.”

Allison walked up slowly, staying behind Scott and Melissa. She had a large casserole dish in her hands, her attempt to show herself as vulnerable, unable to reach for weapons. Derek would never mistake her for vulnerable, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Scott and Melissa both hugged Stiles, then greeted Derek, Melissa also giving him a hug and Scott firmly shaking his hand. Allison stood in front of them, smelling nervous but she didn’t show it.

“I want to be here,” Allison said. “These are the people that I love and I want to be here, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll leave. But I’d like it if we can be around each other. Beacon Hills is small, we have important people in common. I understand that you won’t ever like or trust me, but I at least hope you won’t hate me. I want us to be able to coexist.”

Silence meets her statement. Derek can feel Stiles, Scott, and Melissa’s eyes on him, but he keeps eye contact with Allison.

He wants to believe her so badly because intellectually, he knows she isn’t Kate. He knows that Allison and her father don’t stand with murderers, but he can’t help the way he tenses at the name Argent. He knows it’s not fair; she was raised to kill werewolves but she doesn’t itch when she’s around them. He wants to believe her, but Kate had fooled him so badly, he didn’t know how.

Derek realized he must have been quiet for too long because Allison smiled sadly and handed the casserole dish to Scott. He tried to protest but she said, “It’s okay, Scott,” and turned to go.

“Don’t leave,” Derek said, startling everyone. He cleared his throat. “Don’t leave. I don’t hate you. I just…I don’t know how…”

Allison seemed to understand because she smiled brightly and said, “Sometime, we can sit down, talk over anything you want, okay? In the meantime, you can hear my heart; I’m not going to hurt anyone. For now, let’s just enjoy dinner. Does that work?”

“That works,” Derek said, stepping aside to make sure that Allison didn’t think that he was trying to block the door. She smiled again and walked in, trailed by Melissa and Scott, who clapped Derek on the shoulder.

Stiles waited patiently as Derek took a deep breath and said, “Okay, let’s have dinner.”

-

Derek had been a bit worried that Erica’s fierce personality would clash with Boyd and Isaac’s, both stoic and slightly meek respectively, at least from what Derek had seen, but apparently he’d been dead wrong.

“You’re shitting me!” Isaac said, laughing over something that Erica had said. His face was open, unguarded, and so unlike when Derek had met him. Boyd wasn’t in hysterics like Isaac, but he was smiling and chiming in occasionally. Laura was chatting animatedly with the sheriff and Melissa, Allison and Stiles piping up occasionally when their own conversation lulled.

Stiles caught Derek’s eye and grinned, making Derek realize that he was smiling, too. His pack was mingling with Stiles’ friends, the Argent girl was speaking to Laura without either of them being anything but cordial. Derek reached across the table and grasped Stiles’ hand in his before Erica got his attention.

“Derek, what was the name of that weird-ass movie we watched where the weed turned the stoners into zombies? And the guy wanted to name their band Butt Frog?” she asked.

“Pot Zombies,” Derek said.

Isaac and Boyd laughed, Boyd’s eyes lingering on Erica.

“Why’d we watch that again?” Erica asked.

“Too much wolfsbane-laced rum,” Derek said. “And Stiles’ bad taste in movies.”

“Hey!” Stiles butted in.

“You made us watch a movie called Pot Zombies,” Erica said.

“So?”

“I think Allison made a cobbler,” John said, cutting in.

“One piece,” Stiles said, pointing a threatening finger at his dad.

“Who’s the parent here?” John huffed while Boyd went to the kitchen to get dessert (Allison had tried to get up, but Boyd had insisted that she stay seated).

Boyd served up the blueberry cobbler made by Allison (Derek only hesitated a moment before taking a bite) and Boyd’s hand brushed Erica’s for a second longer than was strictly necessary and when he sat back down, their chairs were a little closer than they had been before.

-

Laura and Derek filled Stiles and Erica in on the conversation with Andrew on the drive back to the loft. Erica was relieved but Stiles still seemed on edge.

“You’re sure they won’t come after her?” he asked.

“99.9% sure,” Laura said.

“So there’s still that .1% chance-”

“Stiles, we’re fine,” Laura said. “Andrew’s running a pack across the county, he’s not going to waste his time on us.”

“Stop pissing on my rainbow, Stiles,” Erica said, stretching her arms out in the back of the Camaro. “Why are you even in here? Shouldn’t you be driving the jeep back?”

“…Shit!”

-

It was a week later that Derek’s phone rang. Stiles sat up straighter from where he was working on the couch. He frowned and looked around, counting Erica, Laura, and himself, then looked back at Derek.

“Who the hell else calls you?”

Derek flipped him off but didn’t disagree. There were less than ten number in his phone and the number calling him wasn’t one of them.

“Hello?” he answered.

 _”Derek Hale,”_ came a cultured, British voice that he immediately recognized.

“Deucalion?”

Laura was immediately at his side. 

_”Would you be so kind as to let me speak to your alpha?”_

“How’d you get my number?”

 _”Your pack is not the only one with resources, my boy. Two numbers are registered under Laura Hale, and it seems I happened to dial yours,”_ Deucalion said, as if explaining something to a small child. _”Now, I’d like to speak with Laura. Alpha to alpha.”_

Laura motioned for the phone and Derek handed it over, though he wasn’t particularly thrilled about it.

“This is Laura,” she said.

 _”Pleasure to hear your voice, Ms. Hale,”_ Deucalion said. Stiles, annoyed that everyone could hear the conversation but him, motioned frantically until Laura put it on speakerphone. 

“Deucalion. What can I do for you?”

_”I can’t just call for pleasant conversation?”_

“Are you calling for pleasant conversation?” Laura asked.

 _”No,”_ Deucalion said. _”Tell me, what’s this I hear about a brash baby alpha stealing wolves and fleeing across the country?”_

Laura stilled.

“I don’t know,” Laura said carefully. “What is it you heard?”

 _”My dear, coy is not a good look for you,”_ Deucalion said. _”The alpha of the Hardwick pack is spreading word in the New York area that the remaining Hales have gone off the deep end, that the tragic loss of their family has finally caught up with them, and young little Alpha Hale is kidnaping betas in a cross-country quest to regain the pack she’s lost.”_

What.

“What?” Laura asked. “I’m sorry, I’m…no, wait, what?”

A deep chuckle rumbled down the line.

_”That was about my reaction as well. He didn’t put it in those exact words, of course, but that was the message.”_

“Trying to strip me of nonexistent allies, great,” Laura said.

_”I’m more interested in what actually happened.”_

“She was being abused,” Laura said shortly. “So yes, when we decided to move back, we chose to take her with us.”

 _”I assumed it had to be something similar to that,”_ Deucalion said, not sounding surprised at all. _”The Hardwicks aren’t exactly known for their gentleness. I believe the girl’s name is Erica, yes?”_

Derek, Laura, and Stiles’ eyes flew to Erica, whose eyes were wide and confused.

“Yes…” Laura said cautiously.

_”She briefly met with Aiden, a beta of mine. The Hardwicks push their breeding initiatives hard.”_

Laura reached out, placing her hand over Erica’s.

“So you can understand her desire to leave,” Laura said. “Tell me, if we had asked, do you think they would have let her go?”

 _”No,”_ Deucalion replied instantly. Next to Derek, Laura exhaled sharply, sagging a bit into him. _”No, I’ve dealt with them for many years, my dear. The girl would have been punished, harshly. And the Hales would no longer have been welcome in New York.”_

“Yeah, I figured,” Laura said, sighing in relief. “It’s still good to hear that I made the right call from a more experienced alpha.”

 _”Your alpha instincts will rarely steer you astray,”_ Deucalion said. _”As for the Hardwicks, I would pay them little mind. I have a stronger relationship than Andrew does with most of the local packs. I’ve let them know that Andrew is lying. You need not fear word traveling from pack to pack of Hale volatility. My name still holds weight.”_

Laura’s eyebrows flew up. “You didn’t have to…I mean, you hadn’t even spoken to me yet,” Laura said. “What if Andrew hadn’t been lying and I was crazy evil?”

 _”You aren’t. I’ve met you, Laura Hale. You are very much your mother’s daughter.”_ Laura swallowed thickly. Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. _”Plus, Christina Hardwick has given herself a reputation with her fanaticism and bloodlust. It wasn’t a stretch to discredit her.”_

“Why, though?” Laura asked, voicing the question that Derek was sure was on all of their minds. “Why throw your weight around for us?”

There was silence on the line for so long that Derek would have thought Deucalion had hung up if it weren’t for the fact that he could hear his quiet breathing. When he finally spoke, Deucalion’s voice was softer, lacking the detached lilt it usually had. _”Your mother meant a great deal to me. Our alliance was born of genuine friendship.”_ Deucalion paused and when he spoke again, the confident stoicism was back. _”I do hope that once you and your pack have settled in, I may visit and renew that alliance, Alpha Hale.”_

“You would be most welcome, Alpha Deucalion.”

 _”I will speak with you soon.”_ With that, the line went dead.

There was silence for a few moments, then Stiles asked, “What just happened?”

Laura looked at Derek, Stiles, and Erica gathered around her.

“We just gained an ally.”

Derek felt as dumbfounded as Laura looked.

-

In June, a few months into settling in Beacon Hills, the Hale pack had fallen into something of a routine. Erica had enrolled in summer courses at Beacon College, a small, four-year university about forty-five minutes out. She was starting her degree, something the Hardwicks had refused to even consider allowing her to do. Laura and Derek happily footed the bill. Erica had offered to look for a part-time job to help with the costs, but Laura had refused, demanding that Erica put all her focus into school. She’d all but crash-tackled Laura with the force of her hug.

Stiles had driven Erica for the first few weeks since she didn’t have a car, then waited in the library until she was done, content to work on his own online courses and freelance work. A couple of weeks in, though, Erica told him, with a bit of a blush, that she wouldn’t need a ride anymore.

“Oh?” Stile asked, eyebrows raised. “Why’s that?”

“Boyd’s actually working a construction job a few minutes from the college and he offered to drive me,” Erica said. 

“Oh did he?” Stiles said, wiggling his eyebrows. Erica hit him in the face with a couch cushion, starting an all-out brawl.

Derek snorted from where he was boiling potatoes in the kitchen, keeping an ear out for if they got too violent. He’d been wondering about Erica and Boyd for a while now. He could smell the attraction wafting off both of them since they’d met and honestly, it worried him a bit.

On the one hand, an inter-pack relationship could do wonders for bonding the two Beacon Hills groups together. On the other, the breakup could be messy and screw up pack relations pretty badly. Derek had no doubt that Erica would be vicious if wronged (not that he thought Boyd would hurt her). In the end, though, he knew it was their decision if the decided the pursue anything, and he would support her no matter what.

While Stiles was working and finishing classes, and Erica was starting school, Derek had started working at a local mechanic shop Scott had steered him toward, promising him that the owner was fair, but also extremely overworked. Derek didn’t really have to work thanks to the small fortune he and Laura were sitting on, but both he and Laura got so bored doing nothing, which is how Derek ended up working part-time for Mr. Quinn as a mechanic and spending the rest of his time volunteering with a wildlife sanctuary a bit outside Beacon Hills. 

Laura spent the vast majority of her time painting (Stiles gave her so much shit when she was finishing a huge portrait of Lydia in the living room), but she also volunteered at the community center. In only two months, the Hales had made a name for themselves as the sweetest model citizens ever. Stiles and Erica found it absolutely hysterical.

-

“Die, motherfucker!”

“Scott McCall! Do you kiss Allison with that mouth?” Stiles mock-gasped.

“Oh you little shit!” Allison hissed.

“Guess that’s a bit of a moot point,” Stiles said, cheerfully shoving Scott’s car off of Rainbow Road. Scott swore. “Sorry, but there are no friends in Mario Kart, Scotty!” Two seconds later, Stiles’ King Boo was slammed with a red shell, allowing Allison’s Bowser to shoot by. Stiles turned betrayed eyes to her. “Et tu, Allison?”

“Damn straight.”

Derek was sitting on the couch, watching Stiles, Scott, and Allison duke it out in Mario Kart. Stiles had started out next to Derek, but he’d been moving so animatedly in tandem with his character, whacking Derek several times, and Derek ended up shoving him off the couch. Stiles hadn’t even been fazed, just settled cross-legged on the floor and kept playing.

This was only the third time Allison had been inside the loft. It had taken months for them to get here, months of giant group dinners and outings before Laura and Derek got used to Allison’s presence. Admittedly, it took Derek longer than Laura. Eventually, Laura had suggested they host a game night. Derek had surprised himself by not panicking at all. Sure, it was slightly awkward at first (Allison knew she made Derek uncomfortable, which in turn made her uncomfortable), but the tension was broken when they were assigned as partners for a lively game of charades. They completely obliterated everyone and when Allison held her hand up for a high five, smile wide and joyous, Derek immediately reached up and slapped his hand against hers.

Stiles had grinned, radiating pure joy, before declaring that the two of them weren’t allowed to be partners ever again. Allison flipped him off at the same time as Derek threw a Cheeto at him.

Now, Allison Argent was in his home, his den, playing with Derek’s mate, and he barely felt a stirring of unease. In fact, Derek was getting used to the scent around him. It was slightly sweet, like ripening honeysuckle, and he found himself not minding, not on edge like he thought he would be.

That was, until Scott ran to the kitchen to get more sodas and Allison leaned over to grab the bag of chips, and he got a face-full of her scent. He frowned at first, not recognizing the slight change in her scent, before he tensed, realization dawning, and his gaze snapped to Allison’s. She was frozen in front of him, jalapeno chips clutched in her hand as she stared at him with wide eyes, apparently having heard his sniffing and realized what conclusion he’d come to.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, frowning at them. “Allison, something wrong?”

“No!” Allison squeaked out, then coughed. “No, everything’s fine, I just need to talk to Derek. Right now. Come on.”

Allison grabbed Derek by the hand and yanked him up, dragging him by a bewildered Stiles (Derek was letting himself be manhandled by an Argent, Stiles’ what-the-fuck face on in full-force) and through the loft, into the spare bedroom farthest from the living room. Derek heard Scott say, “Stiles? Where did Derek and Allison go?” before Allison slammed the door behind them. It wouldn’t keep them completely safe from being overheard if a wolf really tried to hear, but if they whispered, it should be safe enough.

“You can’t tell Scott,” Allison hissed.

Derek shushed her, putting his fingers to his lips, cocking his head to the side as he strained to hear if Scott and Stiles were trying to eavesdrop, but they seemed to fallen into their own quiet conversation.

“You haven’t told Scott?” Derek asked quietly.

“No!” she whispered back. “I just found out, I’m trying to decide how to tell him. How the hell could you smell that and Scott couldn’t?”

“Pregnant women give off different hormones that slightly change their scent,” Derek said quietly. “Scott probably noticed the change, but doesn’t know what it means.”

“How do you?” Allison asked.

“I’m a born wolf and I had a large family,” Derek said. “It’s a hard smell to forget.”

Allison winced slightly, as she tended to do whenever the dead Hale family came up. Derek sighed, not having intended to guilt her.

“When are you going to tell Scott?” Derek asked, trying to steer the conversation back on topic.

“I don’t know. Soon,” she said. “I don’t know anything about werewolf-human pregnancies, it’s not like I can ask my dad, and I just – “ Allison broke off, her voice hitching, then very softly, she asked, “What if it’s a werewolf?”

Derek bristled at that. “You don’t want a werewolf child?” he asked as mildly as he could.

Allison glared at him. “I don’t care if it’s a werewolf, banshee, or a damn chupacabra, I will love it no matter what,” she hissed fiercely. Derek raised his eyebrow and watched her physically deflate. “My dad just barely could stomach it when Scott and I got married,” she said softly. Allison wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach, still flat. “What if he can’t – if he’s angry – what if the baby’s a werewolf and my dad can’t love it?”

Allison’s voice broke and, to Derek’s horror, her eyes started to fill with tears. Heart breaking a little, he slowly moved his hand to her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, Derek gently pulled her into his body, wrapping his arms around her small frame. Allison’s breath caught and she froze, then wrapped her arms tightly around Derek before he could second-guess himself. Allison shuddered against him and he rubbed a hand over her back.

“Your dad will love your baby,” Derek said firmly. He’d met Christ Argent and knew, despite the man’s faults, that he loved his daughter more than anything else. “I promise you, your father will love his grandchild, werewolf or not.”

Allison relaxed a little against him and he took a second to appreciate just how bizarre his life had become. 

“I know,” she said. “I know he will, it’s just…what if?”

“You’ll still have us,” Derek said without thinking.

Allison pulled away at that and looked up at Derek, shocked.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ll have our support,” Derek repeated seriously. “Laura knows more than I do, but we’ll tell you as much as can about werewolf-human pregnancies. Our aunt was a human and had both werewolf and human kids,” Derek added at her questioning look. “We’ll be here.”

Allison did start crying at that. She threw herself at Derek, hugging him tightly. Derek hugged her back, knowing that he didn’t have a deranged, genocidal hunter in his arms, but a scared, sweet girl who just needed to be told she wasn’t alone. In that moment, Derek wasn’t even thinking about the name ‘Argent’.

Allison let go of him soon after, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, laughing slightly. “Sorry,” she said. “Hormones, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed.

“Thank you,” Allison said before turning and walking back into the living room. Scott and Stiles looked up, both looking confused and concerned.

“Allison?” Scott asked, frowning and glancing at Derek when he saw her red-rimmed eyes.

“Come on,” Allison said, pulling him up from the couch and kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s go for a walk, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay…” Scott said, letting Allison lead him out. “Is this a good talk or a bad talk?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

As soon as they were out of the loft, Stiles whirled to face Derek. “What was that all about?” Stiles asked.

“I’m sure Scott will call you in a bit to tell you,” Derek said.

“Or, you could just tell me,” Stiles prodded. Derek just smiled. 

Scott called forty-five minutes later, all but shouting with joy about how he was going to be a dad. Stiles elbowed Derek in the side for not telling him, but he was grinning like a lunatic, so Derek figured it was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr on my [Teen Wolf Blog](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my main blog.


	3. Chapter 3

They’d been back in Beacon Hills for almost three months when Laura dropped onto the couch next to Derek and said she wanted to talk to him. It was one of the rare nights the loft wasn’t crowded; Stiles was off with Scott for some ‘bro bonding’ and Erica was out with Boyd (Derek didn’t want to ask what she was doing), leaving Derek and Laura alone.

Derek closed his book and turned to her. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

“The McCall pack,” Laura said and Derek nodded. He’d been expecting this conversation for a while. “What do you think about inviting them into the pack?”

Derek was quiet for a moment, leaning over to place his book on the coffee table before turning on the couch to face her fully. “What do you think about it?” he asked.

“I asked you first!”

“What is this, first grade?” Derek asked.

“Dick,” Laura said, punching him in the shoulder. “Seriously though, I think it could be good for them and good for us. But…I don’t think Scott would come without Allison.”

Derek shook his head. “He wouldn’t. Especially with Allison pregnant.”

“I’m not asking you to make any decisions now, I’m not going to bring it up to them until we all talk about it. And it’s not all or none. Maybe Isaac or Boyd want to be pack. Or both, or neither. Just think about it,” Laura said. She took Derek’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I won’t ever do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Derek thought about how disappointed Stiles would be if he thought Scott wasn’t welcome, that his wife, one of Stiles’ closet friends, wasn’t welcome. And it made him ache.

-

Derek felt like he had been with Stiles for so long that it felt weird to realize that they were coming up on their one year anniversary. At the same time, it didn’t nearly feel like enough time to have been a year. Laura told him that love makes you stupid, especially when you’re a dumbass already. A loving sister, she was.

Derek wasn’t at all sure what to expect from Stiles for their anniversary. All he’d been told was to keep his day free. Stiles woke him up that morning by slowing sinking onto his hard cock, that tight, wet heat clenching around him.

Derek groaned, hands immediately going to Stiles’ hips, digging bruises into pale skin. Stiles grinned down at him rocking his hips and looking to be luxuriating in the drag of Derek’s cock inside of him.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groaned after a particularly wicked twist of Stiles’ hips.

Stiles leaned down, bracing himself on Derek’s chest, and kissed him, never stopping the roll of his hips. “So perfect, Der, so fucking perfect,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips. “Happy anniversary.”

With that, Stiles dropped hard onto Derek’s cock, riding him hard and fast. Stiles was breathing hard, like the air was being forced out of him, as he bounced on Derek’s dick with a look of a pure bliss on his face.

The beginnings of Derek’s orgasm started building quickly. “I’m close…” Derek warned. He grabbed Stiles’ hips and bucked up into him while pulling him down, slamming Stiles onto his cock and making the smaller man scream.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stiles was chanting as Derek rammed his prostate over and over. “Come on, Derek, come inside me, you know you want to. Make everyone know I’m yours, make me smell like you for days.”

Derek roared, burying himself to the hilt in Stiles as he came, flooding Stiles’ insides with his come. Stiles mewled above him, jacking his cock harshly until he was coming with a groan, covering Derek’s torso before collapsing forward, uncaring of the mess between them.

“A year later and I still don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that,” Stiles said contentedly, burrowing into Derek. Derek ran his hands up and down Stiles’ back, occasionally dragging nails down that smooth, soft skin, making Stiles shudder.

“As much as I love this, we should shower. We have places to be,” Stiles said. Derek groaned, but let himself be pulled up and dragged to the bathroom.

Stiles and Derek had a lazy morning after their shower. Derek made French toast and bacon, Stiles’ favorite, almost burning it when Stiles came up behind him and trailed a hand down into his sweats. Derek eventually had to slap his hand away to save brunch.

Stiles almost burst with excitement when Derek went to grab his present and Derek was briefly reminded of a child at Christmas.

“Oh my god, it’s huge!” Stiles said when Derek walked into the living room, setting the heavy box onto the coffee table with a dull thud. “Why is it so huge?”

“That’s what she said,” Derek said before widening his eyes in horror. Stiles looked like Christmas and his birthday had come early.

“Derek Shahrazad Hale-“

“Still not my middle name.”

“-did you just say that’s what she said?”

“No,” Derek said firmly, unsuccessfully willing his blush to disappear.

“Yes, you did! Oh my god, you just gave me the best anniversary gift ever.”

“Shut up, you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Christ,” Derek groaned, though it came out fondly. “Just open your present.”

Stiles still looked gleeful but turned back to the three-foot by three-foot box, wrapped in shiny silver paper. “Seriously though, this is giant. How’d you even hide this from me?” Stiles asked.

“It’s been in Erica’s closet,” Derek said.

“Ah, in the den of the lion, smart,” Stiles said. Derek almost told Stiles to never let Erica hear him say that, but on second thought, decided that Erica would probably love that.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Stile gasped. The box was filled with books, some of the tomes over a hundred years old. All about myths and supernatural creatures. “This is…how many are even in here?”

“I’m not sure,” Derek said with a shrug. “I stopped counting at thirteen.”

“These-Derek, these are really rare. I’ve never even heard of some of these,” Stiles said, eyes glued in awe to the book he was holding. “These would have taken so long to find. And probably cost a fortune, Derek!

“It was worth it,” Derek said firmly. Before the words were even out of his mouth, Stiles lunged at him, jumping into Derek’s lap and kissing him hard.

“Oh my god, how are you even real?” Stiles breathed against Derek’s lips. 

Derek shook his head and rested his forehead against Stiles’. “No, I’m the lucky one,” he said. “I never thought I’d find you.”

Stiles hummed and pressed a gentle kiss to Derek’s lips before extracting himself from Derek’s lap. “Come on, time for yours.”

It turned out that Derek’s gift involved hiking through the woods, something Stiles usually loudly complained about. Not this time. He was just a bundle of excitement, only making jokes about wolves chasing squirrels twice. They were a few miles into the preserve, well within Hale territory, when Derek frowned, looking around.

“I think I know where we are,” Derek said. “We used to play here when I was a kid.”

“I know,” Stiles said, tugging Derek through the underbrush until they emerged in a clearing. Derek’s breath caught. When they were younger, the adults would take his cousins, siblings, and him here, far from any hiking trails, and let them loose. They played tag while shifted, climbed trees, they even had a treehouse. Speaking of…

“Stiles, is that…?”

“Your childhood treehouse? Yeah,” Stiles said with a grin, though he smelled nervous.

The treehouse was huge. When they were younger, they’d easily been enough room for all of Derek’s siblings and cousins. Now, he, Erica, Stiles, and Laura could probably all comfortably sit inside. His mother had rolled her eyes when his father was building it, but he and Peter had insisted that the huge size was absolutely essential. 

But instead of being decayed and rotting, as it should have been after sitting in the woods untended for years, the wood looked new and smelled fresh. He turned to Stiles in wonder.

“How?” he asked.

“Laura helped,” Stiles said, shifting nervously. “Is that okay? She said you’d like it.”

“It’s perfect,” Derek said, threading his fingers through Stiles’. “You’re perfect.”

“You sap,” Stiles teased, though he looked pleased. “Come on, come see what it looks like now.”

They climbed up the new solid wood ladder (“The old one broke the second I stepped on it. So embarrassing.”) and crawled into the treehouse to find the ground covered in pillows and twinkling, battery-powered fairy lights strung across the ceiling.

“I wanted a whimsical touch,” Stiles said. He pulled off his backpack and took out an insulated refrigerator bag and his laptop. “Here,” Stiles said, tossing the bag to Derek. “Dinner is served.”

Derek snorted as he opened the bag and pulled out a half dozen sandwiches, some tuna, some peanut butter and jelly; egg salad; two water bottles; and a container of tapioca pudding.

“Fine dining,” Derek said deadpan.

“Oui, oui,” Stiles said. “Bon appetit.” 

They divvied up the food and settled back into the cushions, Stiles’ laptop balanced between them.

“101 Dalmatians?” Derek asked.

“Don’t front, I know your secret Disney weakness,” Stiles said and, well, that was true.

Sergeant Tibbs had just snuck into Hell Hall when Stiles nudged Derek, asking him to pass one of the water bottles. Derek reached into Stiles’ backpack and frowned when he pulled out an ornate glass jar with a cork stopper.

“Stiles, what’s this?” Derek asked.

Stiles blushed. “Oh, um, that’s the last part of your present,” Stiles said.

“Stiles, you’ve done enough,” Derek said.

“I know, but I wanted to do more,” Stiles said. “Go ahead, open it.”

Derek did, pulling out the stopper and peering inside. The jar was filled with small pieces of folded up paper.

“It’s kind of cheesy,” Stiles said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they’re all little thoughts about you. Everyday I’d write something to you or about you and put it in the jar. Because I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

“It’s not cheesy,” Derek said, somewhat stunned. “It’s…can I open them?”

“Of course! Go ahead,” Stiles said, sitting up eagerly. 

Derek opened the first slip of paper and snorted. It said _When you kissed me, it tasted like chocolate. What the hell?_

The next one said _You’re smiling more. I love it. Looks good on you._

The third said _Waking up next to you gives me a heart boner._

The fourth said _I want our children to play in this treehouse, too._

Derek looked up at Stiles, who was smiling softly, and pulled the other man to him. “I love you,” Derek said softly. He ran his fingers up Stiles’ neck before cupping his jaw tenderly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, puppy,” Stiles said.

Stiles let Derek manhandle him until they were lying back on the cushions, Stiles curled tightly into Derek’s side. They’d just restarted the movie when Derek groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, tilting his head up to look at Derek.

“I only bought you _books_!”

Stiles laughed and snuggled further into Derek’s side, promising it was the best present he had ever gotten. His heartbeat said he wasn’t lying.

-

As it turned out, pixies exist. And they’re bloodthirsty little shits. Erica and Boyd had found a dead dog, mutilated, in the woods. (“What were you two doing alone in the woods?” “What the hell do you think?”)

“Can you smell that?” Laura asked from where she was crouched over the body. Everyone was out with her, Boyd, Isaac, Erica, Scott, Derek, and Stiles.

“Yeah, it smells like a dead dog,” Isaac said.

Laura closed her eyes and Derek could tell she was restraining herself from smacking him on the back of the head.

“Thank you for that, Isaac. Tell me what else you smell,” she said.

Boyd was the first to move, crouching by the dog. Stiles snorted under his breath at the disgusted look on Boyd’s face when he first inhaled. He pushed past it though, breathing deeply with a look of intense concentration.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Boyd said finally. “It smells tingly, like when you open a bottle of champagne and accidentally breathe in the bubbles.”

Laura looked impressed. “I think that’s the best way I’ve ever heard it described,” she said, pride tinging her voice.

“What is it?” Boyd asked as the others gathered closer to try to pick up on what he’d smelled.

“A very generic scent of magic, usually given off by a magical creature. Usually they’re more distinct, but this…” Laura waved her hand over the mangled corpse, “mess is doing a good job of hiding it.”

“Werewolves don’t smell like that though,” Isaac said in confusion.

“We’re more supernatural creatures than magical,” Laura said. “It’s a subtle difference.”

“Wet dog smell isn’t subtle,” Stiles mumbled. Erica kicked mud at him. “Hey!”

“We should go,” Derek said. “Whatever did this might still be around.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to stay?” Erica asked. 

“We don’t know what it is,” Laura said. “All we would do is make ourselves sitting ducks.” Erica didn’t seem convinced so Laura took a step closer, wrapping a hand around the back of the other woman’s neck. “You’re already a part of this pack. You don’t need to throw yourself into danger to earn your place.”

Erica slumped in relief. “I know, sorry. Old habits.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Laura said. “We’re lucky to have you.”

If Erica grinned the entire way out of the preserve, her hand held on Boyd’s, well, Derek figured that was her business.

-

“Maybe it’s aliens,” Stiles said a few days later.

“It’s not aliens,” Derek said, not even looking up from the old bestiary in front of him.

“It could be!”

“Aliens are supposed to abduct cows, not mutilate dogs, squirrels, and deer,” Derek said.

Stiles huffed, slamming his laptop closed, then wincing in immediate regret. “I have no idea, man. We’ve been through everything even remotely related to animal mutilation and we have nothing but aliens.”

“No aliens,” Derek said.

Stiles groaned and climbed into Derek’s lap, whining into his neck. “I forgot how much I hate this monster of the week crap,” Stiles muttered.

Derek frowned, arms tightening around Stiles. “Do you wish we hadn’t come back?” he asked carefully.

Stiles scoffed. “No, I just wish things would leave us the hell alone.”

“I can second that,” Derek said, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck. It felt like forever since he’d had time with Stiles alone. Surely they had time to…

And of course, that was when Derek’s phone rang. He groaned and reached for it, ignoring Stiles’ demand to ignore it once Derek saw it was Laura.

“What is it?” he asked, not particularly caring how rude he sounded; he’d been pleasantly engaged before the call.

 _”Pixies,”_ she said briskly.

“The creatures?”

 _”No, the 80s band,_ yes _the creatures,_ ” Laura said. _Meet us by the preserve entrance in twenty minutes. We think we know where their lair is.”_

“Lair?” Stiles asked.

“Do you even know how to kill a pixie?” Derek asked.

“Iron worked last time,” Stiles said, stalking over to the fireplace that they’ll never use. “Ripping them apart worked pretty well too, though.” Stiles grabbed the fire poker and gave it an elegant swing. “Pure iron?”

“Yes,” Derek said. “I don’t know why we even have those…”

“Aesthetics, Lydia said,” Stiles said. “Laura, we’re kidnapping the fire pokers from the fireplace.”

 _”Go wild,”_ Laura said. _I’ll see you soon.”_

Derek pocketed his phone and accepted the iron items from Stiles. “We’re taking all of them?”

“Hey, not just the poker is iron. The brush, shovel, tongs, they’re all iron,” Stiles said. “It couldn’t hurt. Plus, imagine how hilarious it’ll be to kill something with a really long brush.

Derek was really, really glad they’d brought the whole set. Allison and Stiles were both duel-wielding pieces, and any other time, Stiles would look hilarious holding oversized tongs and a weird little broom, but there was blood on his face and his arms were flying through the air, slamming the iron into the little monstrous pixies with sickening cracks. He was fluid and graceful in a way Derek rarely saw. Gorgeous and deadly, Derek certainly seemed to have a type (Stiles demolishing pixies really shouldn’t do it for him).

“Here!” Scott yelled. Allison tossed him one of her fire pokers and went back to swinging until Scott tossed it back. The wolves were holding their own, periodically borrowing Stiles and Allison’s weapons when there were just a few too many to claw apart by hand.

Derek smashed three of the strangely vicious pixies into a tree and took a second to glance around. Scott, Boyd, and Isaac were doing fine, jumping in to help each other right when necessary. Laura was doing fine; she and Chris Argent seemed to be competing back and forth in saving each other from pixie bites. Toward the center of the group was Erica, taking way too much pleasure in ripping the little creatures apart.

“Allison!” Chris yelled.

Derek’s eyes darted to Allison. She’d just dispatched a pixie that had managed to strike a deep gouge into her shoulder, but that wasn’t why Chris’ heart was flying with panic. Barely three feet from Allison, an industrious few pixies had hauled a huge branch and were aiming the jagged, pointed end right at Allison’s midsection.

There was no time to think. Derek was the closest and let his instincts guide him, moving so fast that he was a blur, and threw himself in front of Allison, shielding her safely a mere nanosecond before the branch pierced his back.

Blood gurgled from his mouth as Allison lowered him to the ground, eyes wide and horrified. She wasted no time, though, glancing up to make sure the pixies were being taken care of before rolling Derek onto his stomach and pillowing his head in her lap. Somewhere beyond the rush of blood in his eyes, and outside of his darkening vision, he could vaguely hear Stiles screaming his name.

“I’m going to pull it out, okay? I need you to take a deep breath,” Allison said quickly, bracing one hand on his back. “One, two-”

Derek whined high in his throat as the branch was yanked free.

“I know, I’m so sorry, I know, but you’re about to hate me even more,” she said. “There are pieces of bark and dirt in the wound and I need to get them out before you heal over them.”

“Just do it,” Derek said through gritted teeth. He was getting more and more lightheaded, the trees around him becoming more fuzzy around the edges. He vaguely wondered if the branch had hit his spine.

The hole in his back was big enough that Allison was able to stick a few fingers in and pull out the debris she could see. It was agony, her fingers pushing into the wound, his blood squelching around her digits as she dug inside of his torn flesh. Stiles was panicking, fear flowing down the pack bond before Laura, thankfully, shut it down.

Derek didn’t realize he was whining and hissing in pain until Allison said, “Okay, I know, okay, I’m almost done,” Allison was saying, then there was the cool sensation of water running down his back, flooding the wound. “I’m just rinsing it, I’m almost done, I promise.”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned. The sounds of the fight were fading away and Derek didn’t know if it was because it was over or if he was about to pass out.

There was a thud next to Derek and he opened his eyes to see Stiles kneeling next to him, brushing his hair from his eyes. 

“Hey,” Derek gasped out, having to try twice to get the words out.

“Hey,” Stiles said, voice cracking.

“You look good smashing pixies,” Derek slurred. Black was creeping into the edges of his vision and he finally succumbed to the blood loss. The last thing he saw was Stiles’ wide and panicked eyes.

-

There were voices buzzing around Derek like particularly irritating gnats. He groaned and tried to open his mouth to tell them to shut up, but couldn’t seem to make his jaw work. Disoriented, he drifted in and out, sometimes hearing Laura and Erica, but mostly hearing Stiles.

Finally, he swam to consciousness, following Stiles’ voice.

“You just hold your head high and keep those fists down. No matter what anybody says to you, don’t let ‘em get your goat. Trying fightin’ with your head for a change,” Stiles said. Derek peeled his eyes open to see Stiles sitting on the side of the bed. One hand was clutching at Derek’s fingers, the other resting on the book in his lap.

“I hate _To Kill a Mockingbird_ ,” Derek croaked out. God his throat was dry. Stiles jumped, eyes flying to his face.

“I know,” Stiles said. “I figured if I read it, you’d wake up to tell me to fuck off.”

Derek snorted. “Well you weren’t wrong.”

Stiles smiled and leaning closer, running fingers through Derek’s sweat-damp hair. “You’ve been out for a day and a half,” Stiles said before Derek could ask.

“What happened after?” Derek asked, voice still annoyingly hoarse. 

“After you saved Allison’s life?” Stiles said, voice odd. “We took care of the pixies, I think they were poisoned or cursed or something, they’re not naturally vicious. Then I bawled like a baby while Laura picked you up, she is scary strong by the way, and ran back here with you.”

“Allison’s okay?” Derek asked. Stiles smiled.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s been here almost the whole time. Scott finally got her to go home a few hours ago. She wanted to be here when you woke up to thank you.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Derek said. “I would have done it for any of you.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said.

Derek was too tired to ask Stiles to elaborate, so he let himself fall into a doze. The thing people tended to not realize was that with werewolf healing came exhaustion. It took a lot of energy to heal extensive injuries, so it wasn’t a surprise to Derek that when he woke up again, fifteen more hours had gone by. It was a surprise, however, to wake up to Allison sitting next to his bed, eyes on her phone.

“Allison,” Derek said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Allison jerked, then stood, looking like she wanted to reach out to him, but grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand instead, handing it to him. “Thanks,” he said.

“Thank _you_ ,” she said. “You saved my – you didn’t have to – thank you.”

Derek swallowed his mouthful of water and drowned. “You don’t have to thank me for not letting you die.”

“You saved my life, and the baby…” Allison’s hand fluttered down to rest on her barely-there bump (she was only three months along, but it was hard to hide on someone as slim as her).

“I would have done it for any of you,” Derrek said, echoing his earlier words to Stiles. 

“You let yourself be impaled instead of me,” she said a bit shakily. “Even though I’m an Argent.”

“You’re not responsible for what your aunt did,” Derek said without thinking. It was automatic, it was true, and Derek suddenly felt like an immense weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Neither are you,” Allison said. “She used you. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Derek swallowed hard. “I know,” he said.

Allison smiled slightly, looking a little lost before moving to the door. “I’ll get Stiles,” she said. “He’s helping Laura cook.” Derek just nodded, grateful that she didn’t seem to expect him to speak.

Stiles popped in a minute later, grinning broadly.

“All healed?” Stiles asked.

Derek stretched experimentally, pleased that nothing was sore.

“I feel fine,” Derek said.

“Good,” Stiles said. He took a running leap and all but crash-tackled Derek back onto the bed. Before Derek could ask what the hell, Stiles was kissing every inch of his face, from his forehead to his chin, temple, cheek, nose, before firmly kissing his lips.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Stiles said. His hands came up to cup Derek’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “I thought I’d lost you, you big, noble jerk. Don’t make me mourn you, okay? I _can’t_ , I can’t do it…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Derek said, pulling Stiles in tight until he was all but sprawled over Derek’s body. “I’m here, okay? I’m right here, I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Self-sacrificing pain in my ass,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest. “Why do I love you?”

“An uncharacteristic bout of good taste,” Derek said seriously, then yelped when Stiles elbowed him in his side. “Hey, I’m injured!”

“You healed,” Stiles said. “And thank fuck for that.”

-

When Stiles eventually let Derek leave their room (“I need to eat, Stiles. Healing takes energy.”), Erica, Boyd, Laura, and, surprisingly, Chris Argent were gathered in the living room, playing Jenga and eating lasagna. Derek stopped and blinked, half convinced that he was hallucinating, but no, there was Chris, carefully and smoothly sliding one of the support blocks from the bottom of the tower and placing it on top. A few seconds later, Erica got a little overzealous in yanking out a block and the whole thing came crashing down onto Boyd, amidst Erica and Laura’s shouts.

“Damn it, how are you so good at this?” Erica asked, glaring at Chris, who just shrugged.

“Steady hands,” he said.

“I feel like werewolf reflexes should help with that,” Erica said with a pout. 

“Werewolf reflexes definitely should have helped you catch that tower before it fell on me,” Boyd said dryly. 

“You guys leave any lasagna for sleeping beauty over here?” Stiles asked. Two seconds later, Derek had a face full of blonde hair and his arms full of Erica.

“You’re okay!” she yelled. “We knew you would be, but holy fuck, we were _scared_ ”

Derek patted her on the back while she squeezes him so hard, he’s pretty sure his ribs bruised.

Laura cleared her throat loudly and Erica finally let go, giving Laura the chance to wrap a hand around the nape of Derek’s neck and rub her temple against Derek’s, her favorite scent marking and comfort gesture. 

When he pulled back, Boyd gave him the guy nod of acknowledgement, which Derek returned. He liked Boyd. Chris Argent, however, stood and held out his hand. The hunter had a firm handshake and he didn’t let go of Derek’s hand, those ice blue eyes staring straight into his.

“You saved my daughter’ life, and my grandchild’s. There’s nothing more you could ever do than that,” he said seriously. “Scott and I already have an alliance; I’d like to make one official with the Beacon Hills Hales.”

Startled, Derek looked over his shoulder at Laura, whose face was blank and completely unhelpful.

“That’s something you’d talk to Laura about,” Derek said slowly.

“We’ve already spoken, but I wanted to talk to you. It’s a full alliance, we come to your aid if necessary, and you come to ours. We monitor and keep the peace of Beacon Hills in whatever way we can,” Chris said.

“Chris and I have already gone over the details, but the ultimate decision is yours,” Laura said.

“What? Why?” Derek asked.

“You made this happen. It was your sacrifice for a member of a family that has so deeply wronged you,” Laura said. Derek didn’t miss Chris’ nearly imperceptible flinch. “So I’m leaving it up to you.”

Derek nodded and turned back to Chris, studying the other man curiously. 

“It’s a good alliance for both of us,” Derek finally said. “And I don’t blame you for what your family did.”

They shook hands again and Chris pulled on his jacket. 

“I have to meet Allison and Scott for dinner, but I’ll be in touch soon,” he said.

“Sounds good,” Laura said, walking him out.

Erica waited until his car was out of hearing distance to ask, “Can we trust him?” At her side, Boyd raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning his gaze to Derek and Laura.

“Yeah,” Laura said. “I think we can.”

Erica eyed them thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. 

“Okay,” she said. “I trust your judgement. Plus, Stiles and Boyd have been safe with him for years, so.”

“Aw, you do care,” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Oh my god, fuck off,” she said, throwing a throw pillow at him.

Boyd’s eyes were trained on Erica, his expression soft. Derek was pretty sure that if offered, Boyd would join the pack in a heartbeat to be closer to her.

-

Derek came to Laura a few days later when Erica had dragged Stiles out shopping with her (“I don’t see anything wrong with how I dress, Erica!” “That’ the problem, dumbass.”). Laura didn’t look even a little surprised to see him.

“Come for a walk with me?” he asked.

Laura grinned. “Sure.”

They ended up in the preserve, walking the twisting trails they’d memorized as children. Eventually, they would lead them to the Hale house.

“It’s so gorgeous out here,” Laura said. “Even though we’re here all the time, I still can’t get over it.”

Derek hummed in agreement. Two seconds later, she walked through a spider web and yelled, “God damn it, fucking nature!” Derek laughed, earning him a punch in the shoulder and a glare.

Ten minutes later, they came to the clearing where the new house stood. The framing was done, as well as all the pipes and electric work, and they were in the process of finishing up the insulation. 

“I have no idea how long it takes to build a house,” Derek admitted, circling the huge framework of the soon-to-be mansion. “Is this on schedule?”

Laura shrugged. “If this were a regular house, we’d be behind, but since it’s huge and we’ve asked for so many special modifications to make it safe, we’re doing all right,” she said. “Stiles spent almost a month working on the protective runes and wards in the foundation.”

“True,” Derek said. As far as he knew, Deaton would be by at some point to do some weird druid thing to help keep the house safe, but Derek had never bothered to ask for the details.

Laura led him up the front steps and into what was going to be the living room. They walked through the house in silence, occasionally pointing out a feature of preference here and there, becoming very aware that agreeing on décor was going to be a nightmare.

“Stiles has been here,” Laura said, jumping to briefly touch a symbol carved into a support beam. When Derek looked closer, he could see a similar symbol carved into every support beam and at least one on the framing of each wall.

“I wonder what the construction crew thinks of these,” Derek said, running a hand over the weird lines and spirals. “Are these Slavic?”

“I think so, pulling from his Polish heritage and all that,” Laura said.

There was a tingling feeling when Derek touched the center of the symbol, like there was a current running through it. He fought the urge to wipe his hand on his jeans.

They made it back to the living room and Laura sat, leaning her back against the wall’s framing. Derek followed her lead, sitting across from her with his legs bent, arms resting on his knees.

“So what’s up, Derek? I assume you wanted to walk to talk about something without the others eavesdropping,” Laura said.

“Yeah, I was thinking about our conversation a few months ago. About merging the packs.”

“Oh?” Laura asked.

“I don’t want Stiles to be the bridge between two packs,” Derek said. “I want us to be one.”

“Even if that includes Allison Argent?” Laura asked.

“I let myself be impaled by a tree branch, literally stabbed in the back, so she wouldn’t be hurt. I didn’t even think about it, and I would do it again,” Derek said. “I’m sure.”

Laura beamed at him and leaned forward to clap him on the shoulder. 

“I’m proud of you, little brother.” 

Derek was secretly pleased, but rolled his eyes and stood in one smooth motion.

“Come on, let’s get back before Erica and Stiles destroy something,” Derek said.

They were too late. When they got back to the loft, Erica and Stiles were on their knees, picking up shards of broken dishes with sheepish looks on their faces.

-

Derek didn’t go with Laura when she went to talk to Scott, Allison, Boyd, and Isaac. She didn’t want to overwhelm them or make them think that they were being forced. That left Erica, Stiles, and Derek at the loft, doing some quality pack bonding. Stiles and Erica’s definition of bonding turned out to be marathoning Halloween movies and gorging themselves on candy and popcorn.

Derek had raised an eyebrow when Stiles turned on It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!, but kept quiet when Stiles said, “It’s a classic. If you ruin this for me, I will strangle you in your sleep.” Derek had just raised his hands in silent surrender and smiled slightly. He and Laura watched it every year.

They made it to “What’s This?” in The Nightmare Before Christmas when Stiles got restless. He was on the ground with Derek behind him on the couch, Stiles settled against Derek’s legs, when he started drumming his fingers on the ground to the beat of Camptown Races. Derek gently nudged Stiles’ hand with his foot and Stiles immediately wrapped his fingers around Derek’s ankle. A few minutes later, Stiles’ leg started bouncing. Derek grabbed the remote and paused the movie.

“What is it?” Derek asked. Stiles flushed a little guiltily, but Derek nudged him again with his foot, trying to convey that he wasn’t mad.

“I’m so antsy!” Stiles blurted out.

“Antsy?”

“Yes, antsy. Restless, anxious, edgy.”

“I know what antsy means, Stiles,” Derek said. “What I don’t know is why.”

“About what Scott and Co. are going to say!” Stiles said. “I mean, I doubt they’ll be offended, but you werewolves are weird sometimes!”

Derek just looked at his blankly, and Erica burst into laughter. Stiles glared at her, but she just laughed harder.

“Stiles, Scott isn’t going to be mad at you for Laura inviting him into the pack,” Derek said. “The worst that could happen is he says no.”

“But I want him to say yes!” Stiles said. “Erica, you aren’t even a little bit worried about what Boyd’ll say?”

“Nope,” Erica said, throwing an M&M in the air and catching it in her mouth. “If he says yes, then he says yes.”

“But don’t you want him to be pack?”

Erica leveled him a look like he was an idiot. “Well yeah, obviously,” she said. “But he isn’t going to dump me because of it or vice versa. And Scott isn’t going to friend-dump you.”

“I _know_ that,” Stiles said and flopped backwards onto the floor. “I still worry!”

Erica shrugged and went back to catching M&Ms in her mouth while Stiles just laid on the ground and groaned like Tina Belcher. Derek rolled his eyes and stood, offering a hand to Stiles. 

“What?” Stiles asked, eyeing Derek’s hand suspiciously. Derek fought not to roll his eyes again.

“I’m not going to bite, Stiles.”

“What if I wanted you to?” Stiles asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Hell yeah,” Erica said, leering over at them. “I’m watching.” Derek growled, but she just grinned, completely unrepentant. 

“How does Boyd even deal with you?” Stiles grumbled, but took Derek’s hand, letting the other man haul him to his feet.

“Oh sweetie, if you wanted details, all you had to do was ask,” Erica said. “He usually ‘deals with me’ with his big, thick, co-“

“Yeah that’s enough okay thank you!” Stiles yelled. “Jesus.”

“You asked,” Erica said with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Stiles said. “Derek, why’d you make me get up?”

“Put on your shoes. You, too,” he added to Erica.

“Why?” Stiles asked, but he was already putting his shoes on. Erica went to her room to grab hers.

“We’re going for a run,” Derek said. “Hopefully that’ll get rid of your excess energy. And Erica’s oversharing.”

“You love it!” Erica called from her room.

“I really don’t.”

“Okay, that’s all well and good for you werewolves, but if you haven’t noticed, you’re slightly faster than I am,” Stiles said. “And have better coordination. And can see in the dark.”

Derek grinned. “You’re going to get a five minute head start. Then Erica and I are coming after you.”

“What, we’re playing capture the Stiles?” Stiles asked. “In October. In the dark. In the woods. We literally just watched all the horror movies that tell you why this is a bad idea.”

“If one of us can’t catch you in thirty minutes, I’ll blow you for an hour,” Derek said.

“You’d do that anyway,” Stiles tried to scoff, but his pupils dilated. “And if you find me first?”

“Same deal,” Derek said. “For an hour.”

“If I find him first, do I get an hour-long blow job?” Erica asked, walking back into the room with her hot pink running shoes.

“I’ll tell Boyd he owes you,” Stiles said.

“Oh honey, an hour is nothing compared to most nights,” Erica said.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked incredulously. “Is that some kind of werewolf stamina thing, because Derek – “

Derek clamped a hand over Stiles’ mouth. “Nope. Going on a run. Now.”

That’ how Erica, Derek, and Stiles ended up at the partially built Hale house at 5:00 pm, wearing running shoes and ready to sprint into the preserve. Stiles glared enviously at Erica and Derek’s short-sleeved shirts from where he was wrapped up in two sweatshirts. 

“I’ve notice a glaring fault in your plan,” Stiles said. Derek arched an eyebrow in silent question. “It’s going to get dark soon, and I trip over air in the daylight.”

“Better hope we find you quickly then,” Derek said.

Stiles flipped him off, muttering something about being set up for failure, before taking off into the trees.

Derek’s wolf surged to the surface, itching to run after his mate, to chase him down and claim and damn, he didn’t think this idea through. Erica smirked over at him, no doubt smelling exactly what he was thinking. 

“Shut up,” he grunted.

Erica just snorted. “Flashy eyes and claws don’t scare me, I have them, too,” Erica said. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out slowly. It was a meditation technique Derek had taught her. He tilted his head to the side in confusion, but before he could ask, Erica said, “Just because he’s not my mate doesn’t mean that when he runs, I don’t want to chase him.”

Derek pulled his wolf back, annoyed with himself for letting it out in the first place, and sat next to Erica. He could still hear Stiles all but crashing through the preserve. 

“Do you really not care if Boyd is in the pack or not?” Derek asked suddenly, unsure where the question came from. Erica cracked one eye open and gave him a look that reminded Derek so strongly of the one Laura gave him when she called him an idiot that he was actually startled. 

“Would you want Stiles to be in your pack?” Erica asked.

Which, fair point.

“You’re that serious with Boyd?” Derek asked, surprised.

Erica sighed and opened her eyes, scooching around to face him fully.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” she said. “I know we’ve only been here for what, six months? But it’s like…I _know_. I _hate_ it when people say ‘oh it feels right,’ it’s a cheap and easy thing to say, whatever. But it feels like its fits. Like, something I’m 100% sure of. I know that doesn’t make much sense.””

“No, it does,” Derek said, smiling slightly at her. “It really does. Does he feel the same way?”

“I think so, yeah,” Erica said. “He makes me feel all stupid and gooey, ugh, it’s terrible.”

Derek laughed and squeezed her shoulder before standing. He checked his phone and grinned.

“He’s had five minutes,” he said.

Erica popped up, teeth bared in a grin. “Bet I’ll find him first,” she said.

“I’m not betting you oral,” Derek said and ran into the trees, Erica’s laughter echoing behind him.

It was easy to follow Stiles’ scent for a while, despite how it wound through the trees, like he’d zigzagged and doubled back. A half mile in, though, it started to thin and stutter until suddenly it was gone all together. Derek stopped in his tracks, frowning. A few seconds later, Erica burst out next to him, panting slightly. She sniffed the air then turned to him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“What the hell?” she asked.

Derek didn’t answer, instead he prowled forward, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to find any trace of Stiles.

“No using that mate bond crap to cheat,” Erica said.

“It’s not cheating if it works.”

“Ass.”

Derek ignored her and tried to focus on all of his senses, searching for anything he may have missed. Any innocuous sound that might not be a bird, a bit of a footprint unnoticed in the dirt…and he smelled it, the slight, wispy smell of wolfsbane. Derek grinned and took off, following the faint smell. He would lost it once in a while, sometimes up trees and then down a few dozen yards away (was Stiles jumping through the trees like Tarzan?), but he always picked up the scent eventually. 

It was getting dangerously close to the half hour deadline and Derek was getting more and more frustrated. Then he heard the sound of something huge falling into the stream a hundred or so yard away. Derek froze, immediately fearing the worst and tore off in that direction. What if that was Stiles? What if he’d fallen, if he were unconscious, bleeding, if, if…

It was Erica, sitting in the middle of the shallow stream, hair in disarray and looking distinctly unimpressed. She looked up when Derek burst through the underbrush and glared at him like it was his fault.

“Your boyfriend sucks.”

“On occasion,” Derek agreed. “Very well, too.”

Erica sneered and pulled herself up, one hand clutching at her sopping wet jeans to make sure they didn’t fall down.

“So how is this Stiles’ fault?” Derek asked. 

Erica wordlessly pointed up. There, on a branch a good twenty feet off the ground, was Stiles’ hoodie.

Derek looked back at Erica and raised an eyebrow. “And?” he asked, though he was impressed that Stiles had made it that high without hurting himself.

“He cracked the branch almost in half,” Erica said through gritted teeth, popping her shoulder back into its socket. “And put his sweatshirt over it and when I grabbed the branch, it broke and fell into the goddamn creek. Stop laughing!”

But Derek couldn’t help grinning. He was so proud of how clever and creative his mate was. At least until he heard the unmistakable beeping of Stiles’ phone alarm and Stiles’ voice echoing through the preserve when he shouted, “HA!” Derek groaned and punched the bridge of his noise.

“Looks like an hour-long blowjob for me!” he called.

Derek grumbled under his breath and helped Erica pull sticks out of her hair until Stiles sauntered into sight, smirking. 

“Like my present?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, fuck off,” Erica said. “I dislocated my shoulder.”

Stiles shrugged. “It was you choice to climb the tree,” Stiles said.

Erica grumbled all the way back to the loft until she was able to take a hot shower. 

“So, how’d you do that?” Derek asked.

“What, break the tree branch? Well, I stomped on it a bit…”

“Not that, smartass,” Derek said. “How’d you use wolfsbane to hide your scent?”

“Special blend à la Deaton and Stiles,” Stiles said. “We cooked it up when we had a nasty pack come through a few years ago and tried to make off with Lydia.”

“I can’t imagine that went well,” Derek said. 

“Nope,” Stiles said cheerfully. “She screamed and ruptured their eardrums, then came to Deaton. We MacGyvered a wolfsbane cocktail that masked masks scents. I might have to revise it if you could smell it, though.”

“It was subtle,” Derek said. “I barely caught it.”

“Shower’s free!” Erica yelled right when Stiles’ phone started buzzing. 

“Ah, that’s Scott,” Stiles said. “Probably wants to discuss this whole pack situation.”

“Talk to Scott, I’ll shower.”

Stiles pouted. “I don’t get to shower with you?”

“Nope, talk to Scott,” Derek said and turned to walk to the bathroom, well aware of Stiles’ eyes on his ass.

“Scott, I’m giving up shower sex for you, so you better feel loved,” Stiles said. Derek could just make out Scott’s answer of, “Dude, gross!” before he closed the bathroom door.

Derek was done showering before Stiles was done on the phone, much to Stiles’ disappointment. Stiles took a quick run through the shower after, coming out in a puff of steam right when Laura slid open the door with her foot, arms full of pizza.

“You’re my goddess,” Stiles said, practically inhaling his slice of sausage and pineapple.

“I know,” Laura said with an easy smile.

“How’d it go?” Erica asked. She was sitting in one of the big, oversized chairs with her legs crossed under her, an entire pizza box in her lap. She tone was aiming for nonchalance, but missed it by a mile.

“Good, I think,” Laura said. “They all listened to what I had to say. I don’t think anyone felt insulted. I told them to take as much time as they needed, that it wasn’t a one-time only deal, but that being pack isn’t something that you can drift in and out of.”

“What’d they say?” Derek asked.

“That they’d think and discuss,” Laura said. “I told them it wasn’t all of them or none.”

“That’s what Scott said,” Stiles piped in with. “And that he and Allison are thinking about it.”

“What else did he say?” Derek asked.

“Bro code, dude. Can’t say.”

Derek snorted.

“Well, did he say if they were leaning one way or the other?” Laura asked.

“Bro code.”

“Stiles – “

“BRO CODE.”

Laura threw her hands up in the air and huffed before going back to her pizza. Stiles resumed The Nightmare Before Christmas and snuggled up to Derek’s side. 

Derek basked in the comfortable and safe feeling of having the whole pack relaxed and sated around him. Stiles was close to nodding off with Derek absently running his fingers through his hair, the movie credits just starting to roll, when Laura spoke again.

“But if you have to guess what Scott would say – “

“Oh my god, so much bro code, Jesus Christ,” Stiles groaned, rolling his face into Derek’s chest.

“This would be so much easier if I could Alpha-voice you,” she grumbled.

“Aw, poor big, tough, super strong, never-getting-sick werewolf. My heart bleeds for you. First world werewolf problems.”

-

Boyd came to them first, just a day after speaking with Laura. Erica squealed with excitement, something she later denied, and ran at him. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. His usually stoic face softened as he looked down at her, eyes full of something so intense and private, Derek had to look away. It reminded him of how he looked at Stiles.

Boyd told Laura that he was 100% ready. He would accept her as his alpha and become her beta. When Laura had asked if he was doing this for Erica, he’d said, “Mostly, but even if she weren’t here, I’d want to be.” That was good enough for Laura.

The next full moon was only a few days later and luckily, since Boyd had no previous pack ties, it went a lot smoother than when Erica had joined. They used the same clearing as before, and it went exactly the same as before; Boyd took off his shirt, Laura bit him on the side, and Stiles made a joke about a pack orgy. 

It ended a little differently, though. No one was critically injured this time, so they all took off into the woods, running and howling at the moon. Stiles clutched his side a mile in, breathing hard. Derek paused, but Stiles waved him on.

“Go frolic,” he panted. “Too dark and too human for your speedy-ass full moon running. Maybe I’ll buy a dirt bike for next time.”

“No,” Derek growled. “You’ll break your neck.”

Stiles laughed and shoved him on the shoulder. “I’m kidding, go, teach Boyd the official Hale way of hunting bunnies.”

Derek playfully snapped his teeth but did as Stiles said, taking off deeper in to the trees.

Derek caught up with the rest of them easily, skidding to a stop to avoid Laura pouncing on him from his left. She was in her full wolf shift, something Boyd had looked shocked to see, and was chasing them all in circles, snapping at their heels if they were too slow. When Erica and Boyd’s roughhousing got a little too… _intimate_ , Laura and Derek hastily took off for a quick run around the lake. Yeah, they were pack, but there were some things Derek really didn’t need to see.

When they were finally all tired out, they trudged their way out of the preserve and to Laura’s Camaro. When they got back to the loft, Derek couldn’t help but grin. Stiles had dragged the mattresses from the two guest rooms into the middle of the loft and covered them with blankets and pillows. Stiles was sprawled in the middle, snoring lightly.

Derek knew he should take a shower, that he was covered in sweat and dirt, but honestly, he didn’t care. He did spare a second to go to his room to strip out of his grimy clothes and pull on sweatpants before crawling onto the mattress next to Stiles, who immediately latched onto Derek.

The mattress dipped and Derek blearily opened one eye (when had he closed them?) to see Erica and Boyd crawling under a blanket, Boyd in just shorts and Erica in a tank top and tight boy shorts. 

“Mm, shirtless Derek, scandalous,” Erica joked. 

“You’re literally wearing underwear,” Derek pointed out. 

Erica just shrugged and yanked Boyd’s arms around her as she settled down. “Truth,” she said.

“Stiles likes it when I sleep without a shirt,” Derek said, blushing. “Skin contact helps him sleep.”

“From what we hear through the walls, I gotta disagree,” Erica said.

“Shut uuup,” Stiles groaned, slapping backward in the direction of Erica’s voice, only managing to smack Laura in the thigh where she was settling down. “Sleep now.”

Erica stuck out her tongue but didn’t say anything else, seemingly content to just lie wrapped up in Boyd.

Boyd’s presence in the pack bond was strong and solid, steady like he was, and in perfect balance to Erica’s fiery presence. 

Derek fell asleep easily, the five of them wrapped up in a big cuddle puddle. Tired out, but happy.

-

Isaac came next, which both surprised Derek and didn’t. Half of him thought Scott would come around faster given his loyalty to Stiles, but then again, there was the Allison factor. Plus, from what Derek could see, Isaac sometimes seemed very lonely, despite having his friends around him,

“That sometimes happens to omegas,” Laura explained. Everyone was out enjoying the unusually warm October day by playing lacrosse in the park. Isaac had pulled Laura and Derek aside, somewhat sheepishly, and asked if that was normal.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Laura said firmly. Isaac’s shoulders slumped in relief and Derek wondered how long it had been since an authority figure had told him that.

Isaac enthusiastically threw himself back into the game, trading snappy barbs with Stiles and running circles around Boyd (Isaac was _fast_ ). That didn’t seem to matter much when Erica started playing dirty, though. Stiles had to excuse himself from the game or risk a broken nose.

“Just remember we’re in public,” Stiles hissed loud enough for all the werewolves to hear. “Don’t do anything stupid and make me get the mountain ash bat.”

“Mountain ash bat?” Derek asked as Stiles collapsed next to him. He and Laura were sitting in the grass, opting out of lacrosse.

“Yep,” Stiles said, settling between Derek’s legs and resting his back against Derek’s broad chest. “I have a mountain ash melee weapon, dude. I’m un-fucking-stoppable.”

“I hate that you needed to have that in high school,” Laura said, sounding pained. “You shouldn’t have had to. If we’d been here…”

“Then I’d have been fighting right next to you,” Stiles said firmly. “I was, er, _am_ physically incapable of not butting in to the supernatural crap. Yeah, having an alpha and an extra beta would have been nice, but the red caps, and demon, and shit would have still come.”

“Still,” Laura said.

“Derek, what has Laura always told you about that guilt thing? Something like it’s not your fault, you can’t take responsibility for everything, calm the fuck down?” Stiles asked.

“Something like that,” Derek said, amused.

“Laura, calm the fuck down,” Stiles said.

“I’m still your alpha, you little shit.”

“Love you.”

It was that night that Isaac showed up at the loft. 

Derek was the one that answered the door, revealing Isaac, shifting on his feet and looking slightly nervous.

“Hey, can I talk to Laura?” he asked.

Derek nodded and slid the door open wider. “She’s in the living room.”

“Isaac!” Stiles said, popping out from the kitchen. “What’re you doing here?”

“He’s here to talk to Laura, and we’re going to leave,” Derek said pointedly, all but dragging Stiles to the door.

“What, why?” Stiles asked, trying to dig his heels in.

“Because their conversation is none of their business and you are awful at not prying,” Derek said.

“That’s not true!”

“That is very, very true,” Derek said.

Stiles pouted from the second they got in the car until Derek pulled in to the parking lot of Stiles’ favorite diner.

“You know,” Stiles said, mouth full, “when we have kids, you can’t bribe them with curly fries to make them stop being mad at you. 

Derek smirked, ignoring the happy jolt he always got when Stiles spoke so casually about their future.

“I’m pretty sure I can,” Derek said dryly. Stiles stuck his tongue out. “Yeah, that’s something you should teach kids.”

“Shut up, I’ll be an amazing parent,” Stiles said.

Derek’s smile softened and he knew he looked like an idiot, but he didn’t care.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “You will be.”

“So will you,” Stiles said. Derek just shrugs. “No, I mean it. Our kids will be so damn lucky to have you, Derek Sardine Hale.”

“That’s not my middle name.”

-

Isaac officially joined the pack on the full moon in early November. It went off without a hitch, virtually the same as when they’d welcomed Boyd; Isaac submitted to Laura and received her bite, then they all took off for a run in the woods before returning to the loft and collapsing into a bit puppy pile in the middle of the living room.

The pack bond was thrumming with energy, stronger than Derek had felt it in years, since his family had been alive.

When Derek asked why Isaac had decided to join, he said, “Laura said that pack is more than family. I’ve barely even had a family. I want that.”

Derek just nodded and clapped him on the back.

-

Thanksgiving came and went in a flurry of culinary activity from Stiles, Melissa, and Allison (Derek’s pants didn’t button after dinner). Scott was still holding out, which was completely fine with Derek, it was Scott’s decision, but he also noticed Stiles mentioning Scott less. Seeing Scott less. Talking to Scott less. Derek wanted to bring it up, but also didn’t want to pry into Stiles’ friendships. At least until he came home from work to Stiles wrapped in a blanket, Erica cuddled up on his left side, with Family Feud playing.

Erica turned to him when the door opened, a helpless look on her face. Derek immediately dropped his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and all but ran to Stiles’ other side. He scooted in close, wrapping an arm around Stiles and kissing his forehead. Stiles just mumbled and leaned into him. Erica snuggled in tighter, radiating concern.

“Stiles?” Derek asked. Stiles just mumbled more. Erica let out a distressed whine. “Stiles, I need an answer, okay? I need to know if you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbled. “Just a bad day.”

“I came home and he was like this, I didn’t know what to do,” Erica said. 

“’He’ is right here,” Stiles snapped, then sighed when Erica flinched. “Sorry.”

Derek hummed and Stiles settled in, head on Derek’s shoulder and face turned to his neck. Derek pulled his phone out and surreptitiously sent a text to Laura.

**To: Laura (8:13 pm)  
Code Family Feud**

**_From: Laura (8:14 pm)_  
** WHAT?!  
On my way, stopping for curly fries and crème-filled donuts. 

Derek slid his phone back into his pocket and let them lapse into silence. He could tell that Erica was nearly crawling out of her skin with the need to ask what was wrong, but she was following Derek’s cue and staying silent. He’d learned the hard way that during moods like this, you wait for Stiles, you don’t push him to talk. Until Stiles decided he was ready, Derek was fine with being a human pillow, as much as it killed him when Stiles was upset.

Laura got home about a half hour later and dropped a huge bag of curly fries in Stiles’ lap. He snorted and dug in, thanking her while chewing, and eyeing the box of donuts she set on the coffee table.

Six Family Feud episodes, an extra-large curly fry, and three donuts later, Erica was dozing against Stiles’ side, Laura was sitting on the ground, her head resting on Stiles’ knee, and Stiles’ face was smushed into Derek’s chest.

“Scott’s avoiding me,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest. Laura tensed at Stiles’ feet and Derek’s hand momentarily stilled where it was running through Stiles’ hair, but picked up again when Stiles started squirming. 

“How so?” Derek asked.

“He’s ignoring my calls and when I text, I barely get one word answers. I don’t know what the hell’s going on,” Stiles said miserably.

Derek and Laura exchanged a look over Stiles’ head.

“Have you tried talking to Allison about it?” Derek asked.

“No,” Stiles said. “I didn’t want it to seem like I was going behind his back.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, tilting Stiles’ face up with a finger under his chin. “If you are this unhappy for this long, maybe it’s time to go behind his back.”

Stiles shrugged but leaned forward to grab his phone off the coffee table. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before typing in a number and hitting send. If Derek were a better person, he’d try harder not to listen in on their conversation. But he wasn’t a better person.

 _”Stiles!”_ Allison’s cheery voice came onto the line. _”Hi, what’s up?”_

“Hey, Allison,” Stiles said. His voice sounded morose, despite how hard he tried to keep it normal. Allison wasn’t an idiot and caught on immediately.

 _”What’s wrong, Stiles?”_ she asked. Derek was grateful at the tone of genuine concern.

“Nothing. I was just wondering, is Scott okay?” Stiles asked.

 _”Scott?”_ Allison asked, sounding confused. _”Yeah, he’s fine. Why?”_

Stiles exhaled sharply. “It’s nothing. I just haven’t really seen him for a few days…or a week.”

 _”What?”_ Allison asked. There was a muffling sound, like Allison had put a hand over the phone, then, quieter than Stiles’ human hearing could pick up, she hissed, _”Take the phone! Scott, you talk to Stiles right now!”_

_“No, Ally!”_

_“Scott, take the phone!”_

_“Allison…”_

_“Jesus Christ, Scott,”_ she said, then the muffled noise went away and she said, _“Stiles, are you still there?”_

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “I’m guessing that long pause was Scott refusing to take the phone?”

Allison was quiet for a moment, then said, _”He’s going to be over there in an hour to talk.”_ She ignored the indignant noise Scott made (Derek hoped that Stiles didn’t hear it). _”Everything will be fine, Stiles. Promise.”_

“Yeah, bye.”

_”Bye, Stiles.”_

Stiles looked up at Derek and shrugged. 

“I’m gonna shower,” Stiles said.

Derek waited until Stiles was upstairs to turn to Laura and Erica. From the thunderous looks on their faces, Derek didn’t need to ask if they’d been eavesdropping. 

“What the fuck?” Erica hissed.

“I don’t know,” Derek said.

“Scott’s Stiles’ best friend!”

“I know, Erica.”

“It’s bullshit! It’s – “

“We know,” Laura said, placing her hands on Erica’s shoulders and forcing her to make eye contact. “But it’s Stiles’ business, so we’re clearing out so he and Scott can talk privately.”

“What!” 

“Come on, we’re picking up Boyd and Isaac and getting dinner,” Laura said.

“Why does Derek get to stay?” Erica said, outraged.

“Mate privilege. Come on, call Boyd,” Laura said as she ushered Erica out of the apartment.

Derek was grateful, but also nervous. Derek’s usual approach to an issue was to remove the problem, but it wasn’t like he could remove Scott. And calm diplomacy had never really been his forte.

Derek was making tea when Stiles let Scott in. Scott eyed Derek before following Stiles farther into the living room. Neither said anything.

“I’ll be done in a second,” Derek said, waiting for the water to boil. Stiles just shrugged like it didn’t matter, which was fair since Derek would hear everything anyway, so he didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t watching from the open concept kitchen. 

Stiles and Scott stared at each other for a good few minutes before Stiles’ hatred of silence won and he bluntly said, “Why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m not,” Scott said shortly. 

“Dude, you’ve been ignoring my calls and texts for over a week,” Stiles said. “That’s kind of the definition of ignoring me.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you, Stiles,” Scott said.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Stiles yelled.

“Because of your fucking boyfriend, that’s why!” Scott shouted.

Stiles blinked. “Derek?” he asked. “Why?”

Derek was just as confused as Stiles, but his hackles rose a bit at the withering look Scott sent his way.

“You sell us all on this idea of a huge family pack, and invite us all, but exclude Allison!” Scott yelled.

Stiles frowned and looked over at Derek, who shrugged.

“I don’t know what you think is going on, but Laura made it very clear that all of you are invited to be pack,” Stiles said.

“Yeah, she’s invited but not welcome!”

“Scott, you’re being an idiot,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. “We all talked about this, and Derek has nothing against Allison.”

“Yeah, well Allison doesn’t think she’s welcome because _he_ ,” Scott points dramatically at Derek, “is an asshole and doesn’t get that Allison didn’t kill his family!”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed dangerously and Derek dreaded what was coming next, because he knew Stiles. He knew that when Stiles reached a certain point, things got nasty. Scott seemed to recognize it, too, and his angry expression faltered. 

“I don’t know if you remember,” Stiles said, voice calm and deadly, “but Derek jumped in front of Allison during that pixie invasion. I seem to remember him getting impaled, I remember my mate risking his life to save your wife’s. Is that something you remember, Scott?”

“Stiles, it’s fine,” Derek said. He stayed where he was by the kitchen counter, not sure what would set Stiles off.

“Do. You. Remember that. Scott,” Stiles repeated.

“Yes,” Scott said, a little bitterly. That could have been the end of it, but then Scott did the stupid thing and kept talking. “But that doesn’t make it okay for him to –“

“I wonder,” Stiles interrupted loudly, “if it ever bothers you that Derek knew that Allison was carrying your baby before you did.”

Derek closed his eyes briefly and bit down a groan. Scott looked both thunderstruck and like he was a second away from attacking. 

“Go home, Scott,” Stiles said. “Call me when you’ve decided to not be a fucking idiot.”

Scott just stood there for a few seconds, look murderous, then stomped out of the loft, slamming the huge metal door behind him.

Stiles sagged, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Derek set his cold tea on the counter and took four long steps to Stiles, pulling him into his arms and holding him tightly. Stiles shuddered and clung to Derek, smelling like a war between misery and rage.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said into Derek’s shoulder.

Derek frowned and pulled back just enough that he could see Stiles.

“Sorry for what?”

“For dragging you into it like that,” Stiles said. “I shouldn’t have used you as a low blow for Scott.”

“It’s fine. Scott’s mad at you because of me anyway, so – “

“Scott’s mad at me because of Scott,” Stiles said fiercely. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for him being an idiot.”

“Okay,” Derek said and pulled Stiles back to his chest. “It’ll be fine, Scott will come around.”

-

Scott didn’t come around. Another week went by with Stiles and Scott still not talking but now, Stiles grumbled and sneered when Scott’s name was mentioned, then fell into a pit of melancholy. 

This was extremely uncomfortable for Boyd and Isaac. Well, mostly Isaac. Boyd straight up refused to deal with it at all or take sides. Isaac took it a little harder. The pack bond was all-encompassing and fierce, but he’d been close with Scott for years, hard not to be when Isaac, Scott, and Boyd were the only werewolves around. Isaac said that Stiles and Scott being mad at each other was like watching mommy and daddy fight. Stiles snapped at Isaac that he didn’t care if he saw Scott, he just didn’t want to hear about it. He immediately felt awful and hugged Isaac until Derek could no longer smell the sharp tang of hurt.

Frankly, it was getting ridiculous. Isaac said that Stiles and Scott hardly ever fought and when they did, they’d just hug it out a few days later. Derek was considering just locking them in the same room when he got a phone call.

Derek pulled himself out from under the car he was working on (it was amazing to him how 36 apples and a peach got stuck in the undercarriage, but whatever) and wiped his hands on his grease-stained coverall. He frowned when he picked up his phone, not recognizing the number.

“Hello?” he answered. 

_”Hi, Derek. It’s Allison.”_

“Hi,” Derek said, surprised. “I didn’t know you had my number.”

_”I got it and Laura’s months ago from Stiles. Just in case.”_

“Probably a good thing,” Derek said. He was awful on the phone, Stiles always said so. So did Laura, and Isaac, Boyd, Erica… “Is there something you need?” He immediately winced. God, that sounded way ruder than he’d meant.

 _”Christmas is in two weeks,”_ Allison said, completely unfazed. _”And seriously, this is getting out of control. Stiles and Scott haven’t spent a Christmas apart since they were eight, and I really don’t want this year to be the one that breaks that tradition.”_

“I don’t know what to do,” Derek said honestly. He didn’t want to tell Allison that her husband was being an ass, but…

 _”Scott’s being an ass,”_ Allison said. _”He’s always been really defensive when it comes to me, and being pregnant has made it so much worse.”_

“I can imagine,” Derek said.

 _”He tried to keep me from making spaghetti yesterday because he was scared that boiling water would fly at me and kill us or something,”_ Allison said, exasperated. _”Werewolves, I swear to god.”_

Derek smiled, unsure what to say to that. “Stiles is being an ass, too. What he said to Scott, it was a low blow,” Derek said.

 _”Yeah,”_ Allison said with a sigh. _”They’re both so damn stubborn.”_ Derek couldn’t argue with that. _”I know the pack thing is stressing them out, so can you and I talk? Somewhere privately?”_

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I’m off at 3:00.”

_”The Cantina at 4:00?”_

“Sure.”

 _”See you then,”_ she said, then hung up.

Derek rolled back under the fruit car (seriously, what the hell?) and spent the last hour and a half of his shift wrenching chunks of apples from the calipers. When he emerged, his boss laughed his ass off, said Derek looked like he was wearing a shirt made of fruit salad. Derek threw a handful of apple chunks at him.

The Cantina was a small, gaudy Mexican restaurant owned by the Fernandez family. Mrs. Fernandez had an unfortunate affinity with plastic plants, so it felt like sitting inside of the worst Jumanji jungle set ever. But the food was amazing, and Mr. Fernandez’s enchiladas were good enough that Derek couldn’t give two shits about the décor.

Allison was already eating when he arrived. She gave him a sheepish look when he sat down, and pointed to her round belly.

“It’s this one’s fault,” she said accusingly. “Stupid pregnant lady cravings.”

“You’re six months pregnant,” Derek said. “Even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t need to explain why you wanted nachos.”

“This, this here is why I like you,” Allison said with a smile. “You know not to make food-related jokes at the pregnant lady’s expense.”

“You’re scary enough as is, I’m not stupid enough to make you mad while you’re pregnant,” Derek said. Allison’s smile grew.

Derek’s food came and they ate in companionable silence, chatting occasionally. Mrs. Fernandez cleared their dirty dishes and brought them flan (“Don’t you even try to make me eat this on my own, Derek Hale.”) and Derek finally got to the reason why they were there. 

“What’d you want to talk about?” he asked. Allison hummed around her fork, picking her words carefully.

“The reason we haven’t joined the pack is kind of because of you,” Allison said. Derek winced, his shoulders dropping. “No, not like that!” Allison said quickly. “Wow, I’m putting my foot in my mouth worse than Stiles.”

“Kind of,” Derek said.

“Derek,” Allison said earnestly. “It’s not because I don’t like you, I do. I didn’t think I would, but I really do.” Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow, but surprisingly, Allison’s heartbeat was steady. “I don’t think it’s fair to ask you to have me as a packmate,” Allison said.

“Allison,” Derek said, only to be cut off.

“My family has done terrible things to you, Derek. Evil things that I’ll never be able to fix, but I won’t add to that by making you take me into your pack because Stiles asked you to,” Allison said. “I know what pack means, Derek. I know how important, how _sacred_ it is. And I’m not cruel enough to do that to you.”

Derek could only stare at her for a few moments and couldn’t help wonder how someone like her could be related to Kate.

“Stiles didn’t ask me,” Derek said finally.

“What?” Allison asked, forehead scrunching adorably in confusion.

“Stiles didn’t ask me to ask you,” Derek said. “Laura and I talked about it. She told me to think about it on my own and she’d be okay with whatever I decided.”

“What?” Allison said again.

“I told Laura to offer it to you,” Derek said. “You aren’t your aunt, and I’d be honored to have you as pack.”

Allison’s eyes were shiny and for one horrifying moment, he thought he’d said something wrong, but then Allison was flinging her arms across the table and around Derek’s neck, forcing him to hover halfway out of his seat as she hugged him. It was a testament to how much Derek trusted her that his first instinct wasn’t that she was attacking him. He patted her on the back awkwardly until she pulled away and sat back down.

“Pregnancy hormones,” Allison said, laughing wetly. Derek was wise enough to not disagree. “I’ll talk to Scott, get him to talk to Stiles.”

“I’ll talk to Stiles,” Derek said.

“Did you ever think _we’d_ be refereeing _their_ fight?” Allison asked.

Derek snorted. “No. At first I thought you’d shoot me,” he said honestly. 

“At first, I thought you’d rip my throat out,” Allison said, looking at him steadily. “I was wrong.”

“Me too.”

-

The pack was eating dinner that night (takeout fried chicken because it was Erica’s turn to cook) when Scott came by. As soon as he knocked on the door, everyone went dead silent.

“It’s Scott,” Derek said. Stiles shrugged, so Derek called out, “Come in.”

There was a brief second of hesitation, then the loft door slid open, revealing Scott. His eyes swept the room, briefly landing on Isaac and Boyd, who looked extremely uncomfortable. Well, Isaac looked uncomfortable; Boyd just looked slightly less stoic than usual.

“Scott,” Stiles said warily, standing from where he was sitting on the ground, leaning against the couch.

“Stiles,” Scott answered. He glanced at Derek. “So, Allison told me she talked to Derek earlier.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder to Derek.

“Funny, Derek didn’t tell me he talked to Allison,” Stiles said. Derek just shrugged, completely unapologetic.

“She made me see I’ve been kind of a jerk,” Scott said.

“Little bit,” Stiles said. Derek cleared his throat and looked at Stiles pointedly. “And I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Stiles conceded.

“It felt like you’d taken everyone away and were moving on without me,” Scott said.

Isaac flinched and Boyd frowned at that.

“I invited you, too, you idiot,” Stiles said, but there wasn’t any heat behind the words.

“I know, but Allison said she didn’t want to make Derek uncomfortable and I assumed that meant Derek didn’t want her there…” Scott said.

“Well you know what they say when you assume…” Stiles joked. Scott cracked a small smile and well, that was something. 

“Allison talked to Derek and he said he wanted her in the pack, but I thought you’d just said she was welcome because you were obligated to,” Scott said, looking to Laura and Derek.

“No,” Laura said, shaking her head. “Pack is important, we don’t throw that around to just anyone.”

“No one is keeping you away from Boyd and Isaac, or me, or any of us,” Stiles said. “You’re always welcome here.”

“I know that now,” Scott said, nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Stiles said, and then they were hugging.

“Wanna stay? We ordered way too much fried chicken,” Stiles said.

“Sure,” Scott said brightly and just like that, they were chatting away like they hadn’t been ignoring each other for two weeks. Derek didn’t get it, but there was a lot of Stiles that he still marveled at.

-

Lydia came back to Beacon Hills for two weeks in the end of December, wanting to be with everyone for Christmas and New Year’s. Which meant, according to Stiles, that they were going to in for an absolutely over the top Christmas party. 

“We’re lucky I convinced her to leave it to just Christmas. Her New Year’s parties are out of control,” Stiles told him. Derek believed him.

Laura volunteered the loft, since the Stilinski house, where they normally celebrated, didn’t have a chance in hell at holding them all.

Laura’s face went soft as soon as Lydia stepped into the loft for the first time, so much so that Derek felt the need to look away, like he was a voyeur intruding on something private. Lydia set her bag down by the door and stepped up to Laura, lifting one hand to trace lightly over Laura’s cheek.

“Hello again,” Lydia said. 

Laura grinned and leaned over to gently kiss Lydia on the cheek. For a brief second, it looked like Laura was going to say fuck it and sweep Lydia up in her arms, uncaring of whether Derek was in the room or not.

The moment was broken when Erica, who’d been watching the exchange from the living room with Derek, cleared her throat and took a few steps toward them. Laura looked over, startled, and Lydia had to blink a few times, but then they seemed to remember there were other people in the room.

“Sorry,” Laura said, clearing her throat. “Lydia, this is Erica.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lydia said politely. Two seconds later, her eyes flew wide in shock as Erica yanked her into a hug. Derek had the feeling that not much surprised Lydia, so he enjoyed it while he could. Stiles was going to be so mad that he’d missed Lydia awkwardly patting the back of Erica’s head. “Um…”

“I never got the chance to thank you,” Erica said in explanation when she pulled away. “For helping them get me out of New York.”

“That was nothing,” Lydia said, trying to be aloof, though Derek could tell that she was trying not to preen. “It was the right thing to do. Plus, it always makes me happy to truly ruin someone else’s day.”

Erica’s grin at that was fierce and Derek knew it was all going to go downhill from there.

He was right. Laura and Lydia retreated to Laura’s room for a few hours (Erica and Derek blasted the radio as loud as it would go) before they emerged, Laura looking a bit ruffled but satisfied with herself, and Lydia looking just as pristine as she did before.

“We’re going shopping,” Lydia declared, pointing to Erica and beckoning her to stand.

“It’s the weekend before Christmas,” Derek pointed out. “It’s going to be packed.”

Lydia waved away his concern. “Do you really think I don’t know how to get through a crowd? Oh, sweetie,” Lydia said, then turned to Erica, raking her gaze over the other woman. “You have amazing features. We’re just going to teach you how to show them off more.”

“Okay?” Erica said slowly.

“I’m not saying you aren’t gorgeous, because you absolutely are. Your body is a tool in your arsenal, and it’s always good to know exactly how to use that tool to your advantage,” Lydia said. “Especially on weak-minded old men with superiority complexes.”

Erica glanced at Derek with a wicked smile. He just shrugged.

“She’s not wrong,” Derek said. “Men kind of suck.”

“You’re dating a man,” Erica pointed out.

“He and Derek suck in a completely different way, which I’m sure you’ve been forced to overhear,” Lydia said.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Derek deadpanned.

Lydia ignored him and ushered Laura and Erica out the door.

“You and Stiles are in charge of cleaning, make sure it’s ready to decorate by the time I get back,” Lydia demanded.

Derek stared at the door after it closed, incensed that he was being ordered around like a child from a short redhead in Jimmy Choos. He was more incensed that he obeyed and got up to clean.

-

When Lydia was done with the loft, Derek thought for a second that he’d walked into the wrong apartment. Elegant white and silver fabric was draped from the ceiling and walls, making it feel like being in the middle of a satiny, linen tent, with soft while lights strung behind, giving the illusion that the walls were glowing. Fake snow covered every table and counter (Lydia had called in half a dozen tall bar tables), complete with snowmen and little house decorations. 

Derek didn’t know how fancy holiday party food usually worked, but he was still surprised at the appearance of cocktail weenies, deviled eggs, and cornbread next to the pristine displays of goat cheese and spinach, herbed olives, and the roasted rack of venison with red currant and cranberry sauce. 

“Stiles’ fault,” Scott said when Derek mentioned it. People were just starting to arrive, Scott and Allison being the first and they’d both immediately made a beeline for the buffet table. “Lydia made fun of him years ago for eating deviled eggs, cocktail weenies, and cornbread. I think it was a Valentine’s Day party?”

“Easter,” Allison corrected. “Lydia had just started spending time with us and she was, well, she used to be a little mean.”

“Stiles’ mom used to make that when she was in a bad mood, so it became his comfort food, too,” Scott chimed in.

“But Lydia didn’t know that and she kind of mocked him for it,” Allison said, wincing at Derek’s glare. “Stiles got really quiet and had this really cold look on his face. I’d never really believed Scott when he said Stiles could be scary until then.”

“I have no idea what he said to her, but I know he told her it was his mom’s favorite, then he kinda hissed something at her. She went all pale and looked like she was about to cry,” Scott said. “She apologized and they made up and became friends and all, and she makes sure to always have cocktail weenies, cornbread, and deviled eggs at parties.”

“I kind of like Scary Stiles,” Allison mused. “People underestimate him, so it’s fun to watch him demolish them.”

“He literally melted a witch once who thought he was the weakest link,” Scott said. “Straight up Wizard of Oz-ed her. It was awesome.”

Derek snorted and excused himself, moving farther into the loft to mingle more. He was in the middle of a conversation with Lydia about the wildlife sanctuary where her volunteered, when Lydia’s eyes honed in on something over his shoulder.

“Stiles!” Lydia snapped. “If you spill wine on that table cloth, I will be sewing a new one from your skin!”

Stiles, whose wineglass had been tipping precariously, jerked, making red wine spill down the front of his shirt.

“Thanks, Lydia,” he said with a glare.

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” Lydia said, looking unimpressed. “Though honestly, it’s probably better for anyone with eyes that you just throw it away and put on the shirt I left on your bed.”

“You planned this!” Stiles accused, pointing a dramatic finger at her.

“Yes, Stiles, I planned to make you jump and spill wine down your shirt,” Lydia drawled. “Or, I know you and knew you’d end up spilling at some point and was prepared. Now, go change and look respectable.”

Stiles groaned and started off toward his and Derek’s bedroom, grumbling under his breath the whole time. The tall Hawaiian man with killer dimples that had been talking with Stiles sent him a sympathetic smile and gave him a pat on the back before moving to join Allison, Scott, and a blond named Jackson’s conversation.

Derek frowned. He didn’t mind that Lydia had been a bit liberal with the invitations (they were all in the know about werewolves, and he trusted Lydia and Stiles’ judgement), but he still wanted to know who the extra people were, especially if they were extremely attractive and talking to Stiles.

“Who was that?” Derek asked, aiming for casual as he nodded toward the man. The look Lydia gave him let him know that he’d missed nonchalance by a mile.

“That’s Danny, he helped us with the whole Erica thing,” Lydia said.

“As in Danny, Stiles’ ex?”

“As in Danny, all of our friend,” Lydia said sharply.

Derek winced, chagrinned.

“I’ll be right back,” Derek said. Lydia huffed in annoyance.

“Don’t make his neck a huge hickey. And don’t you dare wreck that shirt,” Lydia threatened. Derek ignored her.

Stiles was buttoning up his new shirt when Derek opened the door to their room. His mouth went dry at the slim fit button-down shirt, which of course accentuated the lines of Stiles’ body perfectly. Say what you will about Lydia, but she knew what she was doing.

“I hate it when Lydia picks out my clothes,” Stiles huffed, rolling his sleeves to his elbows (he knew what it did to Derek, damn it). “They’re always too tight and I end up looking stupid.”

Derek took a large step forward, snaking his arm around Stiles’ waist until they were standing chest-to-chest. He snuck his fingers of one hand under the hem of Stiles’ shirt, stroking the soft skin of his hip, while the other hand gently undid the top two buttons of the deep gray button-down, giving him room to press his face into the junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder and scrape his stubble-covered jaw over the delicate skin until it was bright red. 

“Stupid isn’t the word I would use,” Derek said, mouthing at Stiles’ neck. “Beautiful, sexy, unfairly gorgeous, maybe.”

“Shut up,” Stiles said, flushing darkly, then groaning when Derek bit down on a particularly sensitive spot.

“No,” Derek said into Stiles’ skin. “If I’m not allowed to dismiss your compliments, you’re not allowed to dismiss mine.”

“Party, D’rek, gotta get back to the party,” Stiles said, nudging Derek back. Derek frowned but gave Stiles’ neck one last parting lick, making the other man shiver, before pulling back, delighted to see the skin red and irritated.

“Stop looking so smug,” Stiles said, buttoning the shirt back up. “You don’t have to mark your territory because my ex is here.”

Derek shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish.

“It’s not just that,” Derek said, a little defensively. “I like having you marked as mine.”

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard that his whole head moved, but he still leaned up and kissed Derek on the nose.

“I like it, too, but you don’t need to pee in a circle around me, especially not to Danny. Dude is seriously like, reverent of other people’s relationships,” Stiles said.

“And if I want to do it just for fun?” Derek asked, tugging Stiles in by the hips and brushing their noses together.

“Well, I guess that’s okay,” Stiles said, then pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “But later. Right now there’s alcoholic eggnog calling my name.”

Derek groaned, but let Stiles drag him back out to the party.

Throughout the night, Derek learned a few things. First, Stiles was right. Danny was basically made of sunshine and rainbows and was insanely polite, introducing himself to Derek and making small talk that didn’t sound even slightly forced.

Second, Jackson was an ex-kanima turned werewolf, Lydia’s ex-boyfriend, Danny’s best friend, and a total asshole. Stiles jabbed back at the digging comments with his own sharp remarks in an easy way that said it was a common occurrence. Derek glared pointedly when a few of Jackson’s comments toed the line, but when he started exaggeratedly sniffing Laura and Lydia and leering suggestively, Laura grinned with sharp teeth and red eyes, and said, “Honey, I will bounce your head off the ground like a blood-filled basketball and use the shards of your bones to pick my teeth.” Jackson was better behaved after that.

Lastly, Derek learned that Stiles was hell on wheels when it came to mass Christmas gifts. Lydia had thrown around a few white elephant and secret Santa ideas, but Laura had suggested an old tradition the Hales used to do for the holidays.

Because there had been so many family members, especially children, organizing a secret Santa had taken way more effort than it was worth. Instead, each family member had a stocking with their name on it, then all the stockings would be laid out in a line on the ground. Then, each family member (over 18 and with a job) would put something small, be it at trinket, candy, or a couple of dollars, in each stocking. That way, each person had a variety of mini gifts and no one had to deal with the secret Santa organizational hassle. 

Lydia had given Laura a soft, genuine smile when she’d told her that and immediately declared that they were doing it. Now, there were expensive-looking stockings, one for each with their names knitted on the fronts (because, like Stiles, Lydia went all-out when it came to Christmas), hanging from the mantle. Throughout the night, each person dropped off their small gifts into the stockings. Derek had already bought something for everyone in the pack, so he ended up putting $10 Starbucks cards in each stocking. Stiles pouted and called him uncreative. 

After everyone had eaten and visited for a while, Lydia ushered everyone into the living room to open their stockings. Some gifts were pretty simply, like Derek’s gift cards and Allison’s small mason jars of M&Ms with $5 hidden inside. Some were a little more out there, like Isaac, who had given random purple mugs from the 1998 Minnesota State Fair (what the hell?) and Erica, who’d dropped a cheap little bright bullet vibrator into every stocking. Jackson had given her a somewhat condescending look and asked what exactly men were supposed to do with those.

“Oh honey,” Erica said, voice honey-sweet. “If you can’t figure out a way to use that, you’re not leading a very creative sex life. And my condolences for that,” she added to Lydia.

Stiles inhaled a laugh, choking on his hot chocolate.

Lydia smiled mildly and winked at Laura, then said, “He made up for it in other areas.” Derek had the distinct impression that she only said it to soothe Jackson’s apparently very fragile ego, but it worked so Derek didn’t complain.

Stiles’ stocking contributions were a whole other entity. In Jackson’s, he put this ring-shaped soap called Weener Cleaner (“It’s soap for your dick! But you can use it anywhere. Because you’re a dick.”), Scott got a plastic pickle that yodeled, Erica received Fifty Shades of Brown –Lavender-scented lavatory mist (“Rude!”), and a solar-powered waving action figure of the queen of England for Laura. Derek didn’t know why he expected anything different.

People started drifting out around 1:00 am, starting with Jackson and Danny (Derek tried to stomp out the jealousy that surged when he hugged Stiles goodbye), followed by Allison and Scott, then Isaac. They’d all been offered the use of a spare room (Isaac and Boyd still shared an apartment across town, so neither of them had official rooms at the loft [though Boyd stayed with Erica most nights, so he might as well live there]), but all had declined. 

Erica and Boyd retreated to her room, Laura and Lydia retiring soon after. She said they’d deal with cleanup later, which made Stiles’ jaw drop.

“You, Lydia Martin, aren’t demanding immediate cleanup?” Stiles asked.

Lydia shrugged and laced her fingers through Laura’s.

“Maybe I’m mellowing,” she said. “Or maybe, I have someone better with whom to spend my time.”

Laura gave Lydia a soft smile and kissed her on the temple before pulling her to her room.

“What is even going on with them?” Stiles asked as he and Derek crawled into bed that night. “Like, are they long distance exclusive? Or causal fuck buddies when they’re in the same place?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, sliding under the blankets. Stiles immediately rolled over and splayed himself over Derek’s chest, nuzzling against his shoulders. Automatically, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, rubbing his thumb over the skin on this shoulder. “Laura won’t ever give me a straight answer.”

“Yeah, Lydia always tells me ‘It’s none of your business, Stiles,’” Stiles said in a high-pitched and completely inaccurate imitation of Lydia, then yawned so hard that his jaw popped.

Derek snorted and kissed the top of Stiles’ head. They were quiet for a few minutes, Derek dozing lightly, when Stiles quietly said, “I really, really love you, Derek Hale.” 

Derek squeezed Stiles closer, burying his face in the other man’s hair. 

“I really, really love you, too,” Derek murmured.

-

Allison and Scott spent Christmas with Chris and Melissa, but the whole pack ended up at the loft bundled up in blankets, sweats, pajamas, drinking eggnog hot chocolate and taking turns picking Christmas movies to watch (Home Alone and Nightmare Before Christmas were crowd favorites). Lydia came over from her family get-together in the afternoon, and even the Sheriff stopped in for a bit before a domestic dispute call came in, and he’d had to leave, grumbling about how all the crazies came out on the holidays.

They were halfway through A Knight’s Tale (“That’s not a Christmas movie, Erica!” “Eat me!”) when Allison, Scott, Melissa, and a reluctant Chris Argent showed up. Scott shot off a cardboard confetti cannon on his way in, shaking sleigh bells and yelling, “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!”

Allison followed with a covered casserole dish and a small smile. Hugs were exchanged, even Chris awkwardly patted Derek on the shoulder.

“I thought you guys were driving up to see your abuela?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, we are,” Melissa said. “We felt bad missing Derek’s birthday dinner last night, but it was the only day Rafael was free to come visit.”

“He’s such a charming individual,” Chris said flatly. 

“Dad!” Allison hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.

“I mean, that would have been such a loss if he hadn’t shown up,” Chris said, tone still flat as a board. Allison sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“It’s fine, Ally,” Scott said, smiling. “Yeah, he can be a total dick, but he’s my dad, you know?”

“Huge dick,” Stiles agreed. “Like, monster cock, size queens would – “

“Anyway,” Melissa interrupted loudly. “We felt bad, so we wanted to drop that by.” She gestured to the pan Allison had set on the counter.

“Stiles said you like red velvet cake, right?” Scott asked.

“I – yeah,” Derek said, taken aback. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, sweetie,” Melissa said, pulling Derek into a tight hug. Allison was next, then Scott, slapping him on the back and grinning. Chris shook his hand and gruffly wished him a happy birthday before they left, needing to start the two hour drive.

Derek just stared at the closed door for a few seconds, a little stunned, until Stiles nudged him with his shoulder.

“I really wish you’d stop being shocked when someone shows they care about you,” Stiles said, kissing his cheek right before they all descended on the cakes like, well, wolves.

-

New Year’s Eve was surprisingly quiet. They had the year in review, New York countdown on in the background, but it was all but ignored for a wild game of Cards Against Humanity. Boyd blew them all out of the water. Everyone but Erica was blown away by how fucked up his mind went.

Stiles kissed Derek at midnight, sweetly and deeply, and promised he’d love him this year, too.

-

Lydia left a few days into the new year, needing to head back to Europe to wrap up her thesis. She and Laura stared solemnly at each other in the loft parking lot for a long time before Laura stepped forward and cradled Lydia’s face in her hands.

“Just for now,” Laura said quietly, running her thumbs over Lydia’s cheekbones.

They kissed hard and fierce before Lydia abruptly pulled away, got into her rental car, and sped away from the loft. Laura didn’t talk much for the rest of the day.

-

“So,” Laura said casually, halfway through January. “The house is ready for its final walkthrough.”

Every pair of eyes snapped to Laura. Stiles, who was in the middle of coming down the stairs, missed a step and almost fell. Isaac and Erica, who was sitting on Boyd’s lap, paused their game of Borderlands to stare at her.

“Already?” Derek asked. “I thought we had months to go.”

“They got ahead of schedule,” Laura said. “I’m sure the generous Christmas bonus we gave them did help a bit…”

“So we’re good to move in? We’ll have our soundproof sex room?” Stiles asked, bouncing in excitement. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Erica said, wiggling in Boyd’s lap. He stilled her with his hands on her hips, but he was smirking, too.

“Yes, Stiles,” Laura said. “You and Derek, and those freaks over there,” she jerked her thumb in the direction of Erica and Boyd, both of whom just smirked, “can stop scarring the rest of us.”

“Hello, pot? This is kettle, uh, you’re black!” Stiles said.

Isaac laughed, then when Laura shot him a glare, said, “Oh come on, I’m the only person in this room that hasn’t had obnoxiously loud sex in here.”

And, point.

“We need to find Isaac a girl,” Stiles said. “Or a boy.”

“I’m good,” Isaac said. “No offense, but your taste in significant others is really, really bad.”

“Hey,” Derek said, frowning.

“Besides you.”

“Danny wasn’t awful!” Stiles protested.

“Well, congrats, Stiles, you’ve dated two whole people that can be called not awful,” Isaac drawled.

“I can’t believe I missed you while I was in New York,” Stiles grumbled.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Anyway,” Laura said, steering the devolving conversation back to her. “Stiles, sometime this week, Deaton will need your help finishing up the wards on the house.” Stiles saluted her. “The rest of you, time to pick paint colors.”

She pulled out a heavy three ring binder from the bag at her side and tossed it onto the coffee table with a dull thud.

“There’s no way that whole thing is paint samples,” Stiles said, eyeing the four inch binder warily. “That has Lydia written all over it.”

“Aw, you’re smarter than you look,” Laura cooed, ruffling Stiles’ hair and earing an indignant squawk. “There are paint samples in the back, the rest are Lydia-approved color schemes and decorating ideas. We’ve got all the common areas figured out, but you all need to pick out colors for your rooms.”

“Yes, gimme,” Erica said, yanking the binder closer. “Hot pink and gray, here we come.”

“I am not sleeping in a pink room,” Boyd said. Erica pouted at him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in that guys-can’t-love-pink bullshit,” Erica said.

“No, but I believe in neon-induced migraines,” he said dryly, then softly added, “Alicia’s room was bright pink.” The scent of old sadness, like a dull ache, permeated the room.

Erica’s face instantly softened and she ripped out the page with pink swatches, crumpled it up, and threw it over her shoulder. 

“Okay, no pink,” she said, flipping through the book. “How do you feel about greens?” Boyd looked grateful and briefly buried his nose in Erica’s hair before peering over her shoulder. 

Derek looked at Stiles in confusion, who just held up a finger and fished his phone from his pocket. A second later, a text from Stiles made Derek’s phone buzz in his pocket.

**_From: Stiles (5:45 pm)_  
** Alicia was/is Boyd’s little sister. She disappeared before we met him.  
We helped him look for her, we tried so hard, dude. I seriously abused police resources and we never found anything. Broke his fucking heart. 

**_From: Stiles (5:47 pm)_  
Erica’s been really, really good for him. He hasn’t really smiled this much in…ever. I think he blamed himself and never really believed he deserved nice things. Sound familiar?**

Stiles looked pointedly at Derek before going back to tapping away at his phone.

 _ **From: Stiles (5:51 pm)**_  
**Seriously though, you guys and pack have been great for him. And Isaac. And all of us, really.**

Derek put his phone back in his pocket and crossed the room, took Stiles’ face in his hands, and kissed his forehead.

“What was that for?” Stiles asked, hands resting on Derek’s.

“For being you,” Stiles said.

“Fucking hell,” Isaac groaned.

-

Later that week, Stiles and Laura were out at the new Hale house so he and Deaton could complete the wards, and Derek was cooking a massive four course dinner for when they got back. While Deaton was a full-on druid, Stiles was just a spark, and setting wards for twelve hours was going to exhaust him judging by now tired he was after five hours when they first started construction.

Derek had just put the lasagnas in, one of the only dishes he could comfortably say that he made well, when someone knocked loudly on the loft door. A deep breath told him that it was Scott and Allison.

“It’s open,” Derek called, quickly washing his hands. By the time he was done, Scott was hovering anxiously as Allison, seven months pregnant and huge, pulled herself up onto one of the stools at the edge of the kitchen island. Scott held a hand behind her, like she would topple out of the chair at the first sign of a breeze.

“Scott,” Allison said, leveling a glare at him. “I’m pregnant, not drunk or dying. If you don’t stop it, I swear to god, I will break off your – “

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Scott said sheepishly, then hopped up onto the other stool.

“It’s partially the wolf’s fault,” Derek said, looking at them over the kitchen island. “The protective instincts flare up when their mate is pregnant.”

And Derek instantly regretted saying anything when she turned those murderous eyes toward him.

“Did I ask?” she said.

Instead of answering, Derek turned around and grabbed the plate of homemade cannolis he’d prepared for dessert (the pack would understand) and set the whole plate in front of Allison, then filled a glass of water from the Britta filter and put that down in front of her as well.

She kept glaring at him until she took a bite of the cannoli and groaned in happiness. 

“My new favorite person,” Allison said, ignoring Scott’s indignant squawk. She rolled her eyes and handed him a cannoli to stop his pout. Derek watched, highly amused, as Scott turned him puppy dog eyes on Allison until she groaned.

“Fine, I forgive you, just stop with the sad eyes,” she said.

Scott brightened instantly and turned to face Derek with his big grin. Derek snorted, shaking his head.

“We didn’t actually come for cannolis, though these are seriously good,” Scott said reaching for another. Allison slapped his hand away.

“Oh?” Derek said.

“Yeah,” Scott said, rubbing the hand Allison had slapped. “Is Laura here?”

“She and Stiles are at the house with Deaton setting up the wards,” Derek said.

“Oh man, I totally forgot about that,” Scott said. “Whoops.”

“You can wait if you want,” Derek said. “They should be alone in an hour or so.”

“Sure,” Scott said brightly. 

“Is everything okay?” Derek asked them warily.

“Yeah, totally okay. Why?” Scott asked.

“Coming over at night, needing to talk to Laura?” Derek prompted. 

“We didn’t mean to intrude, or – “

“You’re welcome here,” Derek said, waving away Scott’s concern. “It’s just unusual.”

“We decided, if the offer is still good, we’d like to join your pack,” Allison said, smiling.

Derek’s eyebrows rose.

“What changed your mind?” Derek asked.

“Well, I already wanted to really, but this little one,” Allison said, resting her hand on her round stomach. “You said pack is family. Scott and I don’t have much of that left. We want her to have that in her life, especially if she’s a werewolf. She deserves that.”

Derek felt the corners of his lips curl up involuntarily. “She?”

Allison’s answering grin was blinding. She rummaged in the bag at her side and pulled out a small black and white sonogram of the bean-shaped baby.

“We had a scan done today. They couldn’t tell last time, but now we know we’re having a girl,” she said, beaming.

Derek smiled and took the sonogram she handed him.

“Congratulations,” Derek said. “So who won the bet?”

“That’d be me,” Allison said proudly. “Scott thought it’d be a boy. He has to make me breakfast in bed for a month.”

“I’d do that anyway if you asked,” Scott said.

“Aw, honey, that’d take away the taste of victory,” Allison said, patting him on the cheek. “But yeah, I was so happy, I had them print out a million of those little sonogram pictures.”

“Can I keep this one then?” Derek asked.

Allison looked taken aback but nodded.

“Sure,” she said. 

Derek turned around, grabbed a magnet from the fridge, and stuck the picture front and center, right above the freezer’s door handle. When he turned around, Scott’s jaw was hanging open and Allison’s eyes were shiny.

“She’s the first pack pup,” Derek said. “And she’s going to be spoiled rotten.”

Allison did burst into tears then.

-

Scott was worried about the effects the ritual for humans joining a pack would have on the baby, but Deaton assured them all that the herbs, sigils, and process would all be completely harmless. Reassured, they set up the ritual for the next full moon, all of them trooping back to the same clearing they’d used when Stiles, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had joined, mere days before the new Hale house would be finished. 

Derek felt a little dazed when the pack bond with Scott and Allison snapped into place. He’d expected it to be more intense this time around (adding a married couple, especially when one was pregnant, was going to make a bigger imprint than adding a single beta), but that wasn’t all.

A year and a half ago, he had none of this; no territory, no home, no pack. All he’d had were Laura, two meaningless jobs, and an out of control crush on his neighbor. Now, he watched Erica, Isaac, and Stiles let out whoops and shouts of joy, pouncing on Scott and, more carefully, Allison, with Boyd and Laura more sedately, but no less enthusiastically, welcoming the new members with hugs and pats on the back.

Derek reached out to shake Scott’s hand, but the grinning man yanked Derek in for a hug, then pulled back so Allison could do the same. Stiles joined, wrapping his arms around the both of them. Soon the rest of the pack piled in for a giant pack hug. It was cheesy, and ridiculous, and Derek almost couldn’t breathe through all the happiness radiating down the pack bond.

-

Laura and the contracting company had done an amazing job with the plans for the new house, and Lydia’s finishing touches and design assistance made it perfect. It was modern and beautiful, with a similar layout to the original Hale house and just enough detail to be nostalgic but not depressing. Derek was impressed.

“Why’d they leave the bedroom next to ours free?” Derek asked.

“Huh?” Stiles said distractedly. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of their empty bedroom in the new house, Lydia’s giant design binder open in his lap. 

They’d been given instructions to pick out furniture, or at least a style, so Lydia could get the items ordered or force them to go shopping. Stiles had insisted they go to the house to decide, claiming, “We need to get the feel of the pace before we choose!”

So they ended up at the house in their empty master bedroom. Derek poked around the room, appreciating the huge claw foot tub (he loved baths with Stiles) while Stiles plopped himself down right in the middle of the floor, ready to ‘visualize’.

“Everyone got to choose their own rooms, why’d no one take the one next to ours?” Derek asked. Granted, the room next to theirs was smaller and didn’t have a master bath, unlike most of the rooms on the second floor, but most of the pack had wanted a room on the second floor to be away from the living areas.

“Oh, I called dibs,” Stiles said absently. “And Lydia made it happen.”

“Why? We have a room.”

“For our kids,” Stiles said, flipping between two bedroom sets.

“We don’t have kids, Stiles,” Derek said.

“Well, not now, we don’t,” Stiles said, finally looking up at him. “But when we do, I’d like the have them close by, you know? So I told Lydia that and she helped hold my long-term dibs.”

Now, Derek had had hundreds of different ideas on how to propose to Stiles. Some involved candles, some were under moonlight, some even had him in Spain with Stiles. None involved him standing in their unfinished bedroom and blurting out those words.

“Marry me,” Derek said.

Stiles’ eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“What?”

“Marry me,” Derek repeated. He dropped to his knees in front of where Stiles was sitting. “I’ve been trying to think of the best way to ask. Where I should take you, what I should say, and I can’t come up with anything as amazing as you are.”

“Derek,” Stiles said softly, staring at him in wonder.

“I want that, Stiles. I want our children sleeping in the next room, I want rings on our fingers to show the world how much we love each other, and I want to spend every day of my life giving you the world,” Derek said, taking Stiles’ hands in his. “Marry me.”

“You’re asking me to marry you,” Stiles said.

“You catch on quickly,” Derek teased. “I have a ring at the loft, but I couldn’t wait, with you talking about our family…I want that. Please marry me.”

Stiles was still staring at him and for one terrifying moment, Derek was sure Stiles was going to say no, that even though they’d talked about marriage and kids and the mating bite over and over again, that maybe Stiles had decided that that wasn’t what he wanted after all. But Stiles smiled, wide and full of pure just and Derek’s heart unclenched.

“God, yes!” Stiles launched himself into Derek’s arms, sending them both sprawling onto the hardwood floor. “Fuck, of course I’ll marry the shit out of you, I – mph!”

Derek cut him off by yanking Stiles’ face down to his and kissing him hard, kissing him like he needed him to breathe. His heart ached in the best way and wow, he really hoped he didn’t cry.

“You want to marry me,” Stiles said breathlessly. “You actually want to marry me. You’re gonna be stuck with me forever.”

“That’s the idea,” Derek said. Stiles swatted him in the chest, then kissed him again. Derek didn’t even care that they were sprawled on the floor, or that Lydia’s binder was digging into his ass, because Stiles was going to marry him.

“Why aren’t we that couple that always has lube on them?” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s lips. “I wish you could fuck me right here.”

“Mm,” Derek hummed, rolling his hips up to meet Stiles’, lazily rubbing their half-hard cocks together. “Later. I’ll get you back to the loft, spread you out on our bed wearing nothing but your ring, and fuck you until you can’t walk straight.”

“Derek,” Stiles whined, fumbling a hand between them to unbutton Derek’s jeans.

Derek gently pushed away Stiles’ hands and pulled out both of their cocks. He licked his hand, then grasped them both and squeezed, making Stiles squeak. Later, he would go slowly and take Stiles apart, but at that moment, they both needed this.

Derek jerked them quickly, ghosting his thumb over the tip of Stiles’ dick every few strokes until Stiles was gasping and coming over his hand. Derek lasted a few more minutes until he came with a grunt, adding to the mess in his hand.

“Damn it,” Derek groaned, letting his head thump back onto the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, his head popping into view.

“We don’t have toilet paper or towels yet,” Derek said, holding up his come-covered hand.

-

Laura looked very unimpressed when she came in the front door and immediately as hit with the stench of sex.

“You guys couldn’t even wait until you got furniture?” Laura asked, then noticed the wadded up kitchen towel on the floor that they’d found to clean themselves with. “Ew, guys, really?”

“We had to,” Stiles said. He was back to sitting on the floor and slapping sticky notes to items in the binder that he liked.

“Had to. Why the hell did you have to?” Laura asked.

“Because your brother asked me to marry him.”

Laura froze, mouth open in shock.

“You-really?” she asked, whirling around to face Derek.

“I did,” Derek said, nodding.

“Oh my god!” Laura shrieked. She threw herself at Derek, yanking him in to a hug. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you two, holy shit!”

“Thanks,” Derek said, grinning back at her.

Laura pulled away and yanked Stiles into a hug.

“We have to tell Lydia, oh my god,” Laura said, pulling out her phone. 

“Okay, but if Scott asks, we told him first,” Stiles said.

“Sure, whatever,” Laura said, waving him off. “Yes, here, okay!”

She held out her phone so they could all see Lydia appear on the screen.

“Hey, Lydia!” Stiles said with a wave.

 _“Hello, Stiles, Laura, Derek,”_ Lydia said, her voice tinny through the phone’s speakers. _“Have you made a decision on furniture?”_

“Yeah, actually,” Stiles said. “But that’s not why we called.”

 _”Oh?”_ Lydia asked.

“Yeah, Derek asked me to marry him!” Stiles said excitedly.

 _”But we don’t have time for an engagement party with Allison’s baby shower in a few weeks!”_ Lydia said. There was a pause where Derek, Laura, and Stiles all stared at Lydia, who flushed with embarrassment. _”That is absolutely not what I meant to say. Congratulations, I am so happy for you two!”_

“Thanks,” Stiles said wryly.

 _”I am so sorry, Stiles,”_ Lydia said. _”I really am excited for you. I wish I were there to hug you both.”_

“You’ll be here in a few weeks for Allison’s shower, we can celebrate then,” Stiles said.

 _”Deal. Dinner and drinks will be on me,”_ Lydia promised with a huge smile. _”Really, congratulations, you two.”_

“Thanks, Lydia. We’ll talk to you soon.”

 _”Bye,”_ Lydia said, waving to them all before Laura ended the call.

The rest of the pack reacted much more traditionally than Lydia. Scott screamed like a small child and jumped on them both. There were bone-crushing hugs shared all around. Even Boyd yanked Derek into a brief, but tight, hug.

Derek was riding on cloud nine. He had a stable pack, a fiancé that loved him, and a safe home. Everything was beautiful and perfect.

And of course, because Derek’s luck was the absolute worst in the history of everything, that was when things went to shit.

-

January was just turning to February. The Hale house was complete and furnished with Derek, Stiles, Laura, and Erica living there full-time. Isaac and Boyd’s lease was up in spring and they were planning on moving in then, though they both already had rooms in the house. Allison and Scott also had a room, but they’d elected to keep their own home, which was conveniently only a few miles away.

Everyone was out at the moment, Isaac and Boyd at work, Erica at school, and Stiles off of an errand for Lydia for Allison’s shower, when the doorbell rang. Derek frowned, not recognizing the heartbeat until he opened the door to Chris.

“Chris,” Derek said.

“Hey,” Laura said, walking up behind Derek.

“Laura, Derek,” Chris said. “Can I talk to you? Privately.”

“Yeah, no one’s here but us,” Laura said, tugging Derek out of the way so Chris could come inside.

“Sorry for just dropping by, but this isn’t the kind of thing you discuss over the phone,” Chris said. 

Laura and Derek both tensed. _Of course something was going wrong,_ Derek thought bitterly. _God forbid we’re all happy._

“Okay,” Laura said warily. “And what exactly is it that we’re discussing?”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on Kate’s movements. She’s been just outside of Seattle for a year or so, living with another family,” Chris said, then paused, like he was unsure what to say. “Last I could tell, she and a few others traveled down to Portland. I don’t know if she’s heard that the Hale Pack is reestablished or if she’s even coming here. But we need to be prepared for the possibility that she is.”

Blood rushed in Derek’s ears, his heart seized in his chest. He vaguely wondered if this was what it was like when Stiles had a panic attack. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that he almost missed the rest of the conversation.

“We?” Laura asked doubtfully. She placed a grounding hand on Derek’s wrist.

“We,” Chris said firmly. “I told you when we first met, I don’t condone Kate and Gerard’s actions. I will protect my daughter and you from them. They’re a disgrace to the Argent name.”

Laura laughed hollowly. “If they’re coming, they’re coming to kill us all. It’s not like you can – Derek!”

Laura called after him but he was already shifted and out the front door, sprinting into the trees.

He ran hard and fast, not paying attention to where he was going, just running. There was a nudge down the half-done mate bond from a concerned Stiles, but Derek slammed the metaphorical door shut, not ready to deal with that just yet.

Derek ran until his lungs burned, until he couldn’t feel his legs. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, but he ignored it, pushing his body until there was nothing but white noise in his mind. Only then did Derek let himself stop, panting against a tree until his legs gave away and he collapsed to the forest floor, his back propped up against the tree’s trunk.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, breathing harshly with his head between his knees. It could have been minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure, until there was movement from a few dozen yards away. Derek sat up straighter, hyper alert, until he recognized that scent, heartbeat, and voice cursing as it fought its way through the dense foliage. Stiles.

It took a few minutes of muffled complaining before Stiles tumbled into view, tripping over a clump of roots. He was dirty and sweating, with small cuts and scrapes on his hands and face from fighting through the branches. As soon as he saw Derek though, his frown disappeared and his shoulders sagged with relief.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. He approached Derek warily, like you would a frightened animal and Derek immediately felt even worse. The last thing he ever wanted was for Stiles to be unsure around him.

Derek didn’t say anything, just held his arm out in silent invitation. An invitation that Stiles took, sliding to his knees in front of Derek. Slowly, palm open to show he wasn’t going to hurt him, Stiles lifted his hand to cup Derek’s cheek, sighing in relief when Derek immediately nuzzled into the touch.

“How’d you find me?” Derek asked quietly. 

“I could just… _feel_ you,” Stiles said, sounding perplexed. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I just knew where to go. Pack bond? Mate bond?”

“Probably,” Derek said.

“What happened, Derek? I could feel it, you were so scared and – what happened?”

Derek closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“Chris Argent came over,” Derek said.

“Okay…” Stiles said slowly. “Did he do something? Because I swear to god, I’ll – “

“No,” Derek said. “He didn’t. He came to tell us that Kate might be coming to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles stiffened and where Derek looked, Stiles’ usual carefree, open face had hardened, his eyes cold, his whole body unnaturally still.

“Did he say when?”

Derek shook his head.

“He doesn’t even know if she’s coming here. Just that he lost track of her in Portland.”

Stiles hummed and drummed his fingers on Derek’s thigh, staring into the trees with unfocused eyes.

“…Stiles?”

Stiles blinked, shaking his head a little.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about…options. This isn’t going to be like last time, Derek. If she’s coming, and we don’t know that she is, we have advanced warning. We can prepare,” Stiles said. He grabbed Derek’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes. “I will not let her near you,” Stiles growled fiercely. 

“She can’t have you,” Derek said. “She can’t have any of you. I’ll kill her first.”

Declarations of murderous intent probably wasn’t what made most boyfriends smile, but Stiles wasn’t normal. He grinned, more a baring of teeth than anything else.

“We’ll keep our pack safe,” Stiles said. “Any way we have to.”

The first thing Stiles did when they got back to the house was call Deaton. He vaguely waved at the rest of the pack plus parents, but spoke rapidly into the phone. Derek didn’t understand most of the terms he was using, but he was pretty sure they were talking about wards.

“Hey,” Laura said, pulling Derek into a hug as soon as he walked into the living room, leaving Stiles to have his conversation in the kitchen. “I talked to Lydia and she’s going to call Danny, see if he can find anything or at least keep his eyes open.”

“Good,” Derek said, nodding. 

“We are going to be ready. I will protect us from this, Derek,” Laura said.

“We don’t know for sure that they’re coming here, right?” Erica asked.

“Not 100%, no. But I would put my money on her coming back to Beacon Hills,” Chris said.

“God, what a mess,” Scott said. “Do you think…do you think she would come after Allison? Because of me?”

Chris gave him a helpless look, something Derek had never seen on the other man.

“I don’t know,” Chris said. “But it’s possible.”

There was silence after that until Stiles came back from the kitchen and clapped his hands loudly, making everyone jump.

“Okay, listen up. Deaton is going to be here in an hour and he’s going to need a pint of blood from everyone. Well, from werewolves, we can do with less from the humans,” Stiles said. “Lydia’s hitting a lab and overnighting hers to us.”

“Blood? Why?” Scott asked, alarmed.

“For ruins. Pack and pack-adjacent blood will strengthen protection on the land and each other,” Stiles said.

“Stiles? Blood magic?” Scott asked, sounding appalled.

“Runes! And wards for protection,” Stiles said.

“Same thing!”

“It’s really not,” Stiles said. “It’s not like we’re summoning demons here.”

“Stiles, I’m not letting you do this again!” Scott said. “You _know_ what you did last time!”

Stiles froze. Boyd, Isaac, Allison, Chris, and Melissa all stilled. It was so quiet that all Derek could hear was the sound of their collective heartbeats. Derek, Erica, and Laura watched Scott and Stiles warily, the scent of apprehension filling the air.

“Scott,” Stiles said, after a deep breath. “I’m not going to go all Dark Willow. I am perfectly capable of protection runes. Ask Deaton when he gets here since you apparently _don’t fucking trust me_.”

“Stiles,” Scott said, sounding wounded.

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are an apology, don’t,” Stiles said. Before waiting to see if Scott would say anything, Stiles turned to Laura. “Wanna go over protection ward options, oh alpha, my alpha?”

“Sure,” Laura said, staunchly ignoring the tension in the room. “Use my office?”

“After you,” Stiles said and followed Laura out. 

As soon as they were gone, all eyes flew to Scott. Some looked confused, some sympathetic or accusing, but Allison’s expression of disappointment was what seemed to make Scott hunch in on himself. He muttered something about getting a drink of water and slinked out of the living room.

There was silence for a few minutes until Erica said, “Okay, somebody seriously needs to tell me what the hell that was about.”

“It’s not our place to say,” Allison said.

“If it affects the pack – “Erica started.

“It doesn’t,” Allison said.

“Boyd can tell them,” Stiles said, strolling into the room, plucking an old book from the bookcase, and walking out again, calling over his shoulder, “He’s the most pragmatic!”

Derek raised his eyebrows at Boyd, who just shrugged but looked a bit pleased.

“There was an alpha pack that came to town. They wanted Beacon Hills and thought it would be easy to take over since we were just a small group of bets and two ex-hunters. They underestimated us and didn’t account for Stiles,” Boyd said.

“What’d he do?” Derek asked.

Boyd held his gaze and said, “He protected us.”

“I’m not judging, I’m asking,” Derek said.

“He found a spell or ritual, whatever you want to call it. I still haven’t decided if Deaton left that book out on purpose or not,” Boyd said. “It basically drained the enemy of power until they were on death’s door and, if you were supernatural, it made you human.”

“And Stiles did it,” Derek said, because of course Stiles would do anything to save his family.

“Why’s that a bad thing?” Erica asked. “Didn’t that save you all?”

“It did,” Boyd agreed. “He didn’t know what it would do to him, though.”

“It was bad,” Allison said. “He did everything right and still. Instead of draining them, they just… _exploded_.”

Derek’s eyebrows flew up. “Exploded.”

“He thought they’d get really weak and maybe wither up, that’s what they were _supposed_ to do,” Allison said. “But Stiles finished the chant and they just…exploded. Blood and guts were everywhere.”

“It looked like they’d all rolled in dark red paint,” Chris said. “Except there were also chunks of bone and organs and brain matter stuck to their skin.”

“Stiles was horrified,” Boyd said. “He also didn’t know that all the power he’d drained from them would be absorbed by him. He just collapsed and screamed. He screamed for two days, almost ruined his vocal chords. Humans aren’t meant to have werewolf power inside of them, and five alphas were burning him up from the inside.”

“It was bad,” Isaac said. “Scott was so mad once we were sure Stiles wasn’t going to die. I’ve never seen them fight like that.”

“I said _Boyd_ could tell them,” Stiles grumbled, walking back into the room with Laura.

“I’m a man of few words,” Boyd said dryly. Stiles only rolled his eyes. Before anyone else could speak, there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Deaton and his heartbeat-masking bullshit,” Isaac muttered as Laura answered the door.

Deaton, calm as ever, greeted Laura, then the rest of the pack before setting down the large medical bag he was carrying onto the coffee table.

“We aren’t going to force you,” Laura said. “But if you’re willing, donating a bit of blood would really help.”

Erica was up before Laura was finished speaking. She shrugged off her spiked leather jacket and stood in front of Deaton with her arm out and her chin held up defiantly, like she wasn’t offering up a vulnerable spot of her body to a virtual stranger.

“Have a seat, Miss Reyes,” Deaton said, gesturing to the wingback chair next to him and unpacking his case.

In the end, everyone ended up giving blood, even Scott, who snuck back into the room while Deaton was with Isaac. He and Stiles moved to the corner, talking in hushed voices that Derek couldn’t hear over the other voices in the room. They ended up hugging and slapping each other on the back. Scott apologized to the rest of them before offering himself up to Deaton. 

Everyone felt a little on edge, so the pack, sans parents, all decided to stay the night at the house. The urge to be with pack during stressful times was too strong to deny, though no one really seemed to try too hard.

Derek held Stiles a little harder that night, lying on his back with Stiles gathered to his chest. Derek was exhausted, both physically and mentally, but try as he might, he just couldn’t sleep. Stiles’ breathing let Derek know that he was having the same problem.

They’d been lying in silence for over an hour when Stiles said, “I asked Laura for permission to hunt down Kate. And kill her.”

Derek didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just continued to hold Stiles and choose his words carefully.

“What’d she say?” he finally asked.

Stiles sighed.

“She said no,” Stiles said.

Derek exhaled harshly, tightening his arms around Stiles and burying his face in his neck.

“Good,” Derek said into the skin of Stiles’ throat. “I – just, good.”

Stiles pulled back to stare at Derek.

“I thought you’d want her gone,” Stiles said. “ _I_ want her gone. I want to destroy her.”

“Don’t go near her,” Derek growled, his claws lengthening without his permission. 

“I’m sorry, are you telling me what I can and can’t do?” Stiles said, eyes narrowed.

“No, but your alpha did,” Derek snapped. Stiles stiffened in his arms and Derek sighed, then softly said, “The thought of her anywhere near you kills me, Stiles. It makes me think I’m actually going to cry. It’s not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, it’s that she is an extremely dangerous trained murderer. And the idea of you even being in the same state as her _terrifies_ me, Stiles. I can’t lose you, too. Not you.”

“Hey, shh,” Stiles said, crawling up until he was lying completely on top of Derek. Derek hadn’t even realized he was trembling until Stiles covered Derek’s body with his own. “Derek, you aren’t going to lose me, okay? Not to her.”

“Don’t go after her,” Derek said. He meant it to sound like a demand, but it came out as a plea.

“I won’t,” Stiles promised, nudging his nose against Derek’s. “I promise, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, breathing in the scent of Stiles. “Okay, thank you. Thank you.”

“But,” Stiles said, eyes hardening and voice going cold. “The second she steps into Beacon Hills, all bets are off. I will kill her.”

“Stiles…”

“No, Derek. For what she did to you, she deserves to die, and I don’t want you to have to do that and add to your trauma,” Stiles said. “No, she shows up here and I will eviscerate her with a smile on my face.”

Derek believed him, finally seeing the hint of the dangerous and vicious Stiles the others said exists.

-

The pack was strong and even though there was the undercurrent of tension and hyperawareness, they refused to stop their lives and be frozen by fear. So, life carried on, albeit at a slightly more cautious pace.

Lydia flew back in the beginning of February, supposedly to help with Allison’s baby shower, but Stiles was pretty sure she felt the same need they felt to gather in Beacon Hills and batten down the hatches against any threats. Derek agreed because, well, Stiles would know.

“It turned out beautifully,” Lydia said, taking a long, approving look around the entry, living room, and grand staircase.

“Well, most of it came from your pre-approved design book,” Stiles said wryly.

Lydia just shrugged. “I have good taste. Oh,” she said, fishing a large manila envelope from her purse. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What’re these?” Laura asked, opening the envelope.

“Talismans,” Lydia said. “If someone passes the outer wards, it’ll let you know. There’s supposedly a protection component, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”

“We’ve never had the best of luck with protection charms,” Stiles said in response to Laura and Derek’s confused looks. “Wards work a lot better. They confuse and trip people up while alerting us that they’re there.”

“Yes. There is one for every pack member, plus Chris, Melissa, and John,” Lydia said.

“Thank you,” Laura said.

“You’re welcome,” Lydia said. “Now, onto better topics: Allison’s baby shower and an engagement party.”

“Noooo, no, no,” Stiles said. “No, no, Lydia. I’ll definitely let you help plan a wedding, but no engagement party.”

“Stiles,” Lydia said, sounding exasperatedly. 

“Lydia, let’s just focus on Allison, yeah?” Stiles said. “She deserves that.”

Lydia sighed, but was smiling slightly. “How selfless,” she said dryly.

-

It was not to not get caught up in the whirlwind of excitement Lydia kicked up around the baby shower. Everyone was given tasks to complete by Lydia and he made it clear that failure was not an option. Even Chris looked a little intimidated.

“Why can’t we do the food run?” Stiles whined. It was the night before the shower. “That’s easy, I know what people like to eat.”

“So do Allison, Scott, and Boyd,” Lydia said. “And they’re less likely to stray from the list. Which is why they’re at the grocery store and you and Erica are helping me decorate.” Lydia was hanging streamers from the chandelier in the entryway while Stiles just procrastinated.

“But I’m awful at it,” Stiles said.

“Truth,” Erica said from where she was holding the ladder for Lydia.

“And my complaining is just going to annoy you.”

“Truth.”

“I’ll probably trip and fall into something and ruin everything.”

“Seriously, truth.”

“Stiles, I will staple this streamer to your head if you don’t knock it off and help,” Lydia said.

“Why can’t I help Derek?” Stiles grumbled. Derek smirked from where he was wrapping lights and garland around the bannister.

“Because I’m not stupid, and you and Derek still can’t keep your hands to yourselves,” Lydia said.

“Oh my god, truth.”

Stiles grumbled but took the streamer she was shaking down at him.

They worked for a while, Erica occasionally whistling the theme from Friends, until the entire entryway, living room, and kitchen looked like a party planning magazine had thrown up everywhere.

“You did it, Lydia,” Stiles said. “It looks great.”

“It does,” Lydia agreed.

“Who’s up for Thai?” Erica asked.

“Sure, how about – “ Stiles cut himself off, frozen.

“Stiles?” Derek asked.

Then, three things happened at once. Stiles’ heartbeat skyrocketed, and his scent spiked in panic; Lydia’s phone rang; and the talisman in Derek’s pocket burned hot, accompanied by the feeling of being punched in the gut that meant the wards had worked and were alerting them that someone was coming.

“Stiles,” Derek said. “Stiles, the wards, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the wards. She just entered the city limits,” Stiles said. “Call Laura, get in contact with everyone, make sure they’re okay and ask Laura if she wants us to gather here or…whatever.”

“That was Danny,” Lydia said, pulling her phone from her ear. “A traffic cam caught Kate driving into Beacon County a half hour ago.”

“Either she doesn’t know we’re watching, or she wanted to be seen,” Stiles said. “It doesn’t matter. Derek, call Laura. Lydia, call Chris. Erica, get Allison, Scott, and Boyd back here. I’ll call everyone else.”

“Got it,” Erica said, already dialing Boyd.

“Make sure everything is locked up, too!” Stiles called over his shoulder, jogging to the back door. “The closer wards haven’t been triggered, but just in case.”

They listened, scattering to make sure all windows and doors were locked.

Laura answered on the first ring.

_”Derek!”_

“Laura, where are you?”

_”Babies R’ Us. Wards?”_

“Triggered.”

_”Who’s with you?”_

“Stiles, Lydia, and Erica. They’re checking in with everyone else,” Derek said. “What do you want us to do, Laur?”

 _”We need to all be together, but Der, we were all together at the house last time,”_ Laura said. _”I don’t want to repeat history, but I don’t want us to be picked off one by one! And our house – we just got it right! We can’t lose it…”_

“Laura,” Derek said in the firmest voice he could manage. “We have as much protection for the house as we can, and we’ll have warning if she gets closer.”

 _”And if we gather anywhere else, we’re putting bystanders at risk,”_ Laura said with a sigh. _”Okay, get everyone to the house. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”_

“Okay, love you.”

_”You, too.”_

Derek hung up and rejoined Lydia and Stiles in the living room.

“Laura says to get everyone here,” Derek said.

“Good, that’s good,” Stiles said. “I called my dad. He’s going to stay with Melissa until her shift is over and Isaac is on his way.”

“Same with Chris,” Lydia said.

Erica burst back into the room, white-faced and shaking.

“I can’t get a hold of Boyd, Allison, or Scott,” she said. “I called all of their phones twice.”

Everyone was frozen for a second, then flew into action. Stiles whipped out his phone and called Scott, like he could magically make his best friend answer. Lydia was speaking rapidly on the phone with Chris, and Derek had an arm wrapped around Erica, trying to soothe her while calling Laura.

“Chris and Isaac are meeting at the Safeway to see if they can find anything,” Lydia said.

“Laura’s heading there, too,” Derek said. “She wants us to stay here until she knows more.”

“Can you feel anything through the pack bond? I can’t,” Stiles said.

“No, but that doesn’t mean anything concrete. They could be unconscious, or – “

“Or dead,” Stiles cuts him off.

Erica whined and pressed in closer to Derek’s side. Derek shot Stiles and unimpressed glare.

“No, we’d know if – “

The squeezing, punch to the gut feeling was back, the talisman hot in his pocket.

“That’s for the preserve wards,” Stiles said. “Someone’s in the woods.”

“Fuck,” Lydia hissed, and Derek was pretty sure that was the first time he’d ever heard her say that. “I thought we were done with this bullshit in high school.”

“It’s my fault,” Derek said, heart clenching. “She’s here because of me, and Laura, I – “

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘sorry’, I swear to god, Derek Hale, I withhold sex for a month,” Stiles said. “We absolutely do not have time for that.”

Derek pushed down the gnawing guilt, knowing that Stiles was right and would be chewing him out later. If there was a later.

“Come on, let’s go,” Stiles said, tugging Derek to the door.

“Laura told us to stay here,” Derek said.

“That was before we knew they were in the preserve. We’re sitting ducks here,” Stiles said.

“Christ just texted!” Lydia said, shoving her phone under Stiles’ nose. “They found Boyd and Scott in the Safeway parking lot and they’re bringing them to Deaton’s. They were shot with wolfsbane.”

“And Allison?” Stiles asked.

Lydia bit her lip, eyes glassy. “She wasn’t there…but Isaac said it smelled like her blood.”

Stile swore under his breath and Erica’s scared, pale face morphed into an expression of rage.

“That’s why they’re in the preserve,” Derek said. “To lure us into a trap.”

“They have Allison,” Lydia said, voice hard. “And she’s pregnant with a werewolf’s baby. We’re going.”

“I never said we weren’t,” Derek said.

“They know you’d be able to track the scent of Allison’s blood. Which means there’s an ambush between us and her,” Stiles said.

“We need Chris,” Lydia said. “He knows their tactics, we – “

“Don’t have time,” Derek interrupted her. “They’re going to come here to drive us into the woods if we don’t go anyway.”

None of them needed much convincing. Lydia and Stiles both grabbed guns, knives, and Stiles’ Werewolf Triage Emergency Kit™, which contained two lighters and a dozen different strains of wolfsbane.

“This is reckless,” Derek murmured to Stiles as he reinforced the fireproof and security wards on the house.

“Do we have a choice?” Stiles asked, hefting his rifle over his shoulder.

“No,” Derek said. “Just saying.”

Stiles snorted. “I love you,” Stiles said. He leaned in, placing a chaste but passionate kiss on his lips.

“I love you, too,” Derek said, trying desperately not to make it sound like goodbye.

-

Derek was impressed by how silently Lydia and Stiles moved through the trees. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a skill born out of necessity. 

The scent trail was almost insultingly straight, like leaving loaves of bread instead of breadcrumbs. Derek led them around the scent trail instead of following it, swinging wide. Derek couldn’t smell anyone around them, but that wouldn’t mean much for hunters were scent blockers. They all heard the high, pained scream, though, and felt the stirrings of fear down the pack bond.

“That was Allison,” Lydia whispered.

“They’re baiting us,” Derek said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his fangs from dropping. 

“And it’s working,” Stiles growled.

“We’re not rushing in,” Lydia said, her face determined, but voice shaky. “She’s expecting us to react like animals, and we are not animals.”

Derek hated it, but she was right. They continued through the trees, narrowly avoiding a few hunters and their traps until Derek stopped abruptly, throwing his arm out to stop the others from moving forward.

“A hundred yards ahead,” he whispered. “Stay here.”

“Oh, fuck off, Derek,” Stiles hissed as the same time as Lydia whispered, “No way in hell.” Erica just raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“You won’t heal like I will,” Derek said. “You’ll just die.”

“I heal like you do,” Erica said.

“If you’re shot full of wolfsbane, you’ll just die, too,” Stiles said. “You’re touched in the head if you think I’m letting you go out there alone.”

Derek ran a hand over his face, frustrated. “Fine, Erica and I will go,” he said.

“Derek,” Stiles said warningly.

“And you and Lydia will stay and use that,” Derek said, pointing to the rifle over Stiles’ shoulder. “You’re going to climb up that ledge and park it until you see we need help, then take the shot. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. Stiles Stilinski, the sniper, sir,” Stiles muttered and Derek knew he’d be paying for that later, but as he watched Lydia and Stiles clamber up the rock ledge and settle on their bellies, each sighting their rifles, he didn’t care.

“Clearing straight ahead,” Stiles whispered down at Derek and Erica, never taking his eyes from the scope. “Six in total, two on Allison, the rest are spread out in a circle. Kate is picking her nails with a knife.”

“Bitch,” Lydia muttered. 

Derek motioned for Erica to circle wide and watched as she melted into the trees. He stalked forward, creeping through the trees until he could glimpse a hunter ahead through the leaves. He waited until the man’s eyes flickered over his shoulder to where Kate and Allison were, then launched himself through the trees. He slammed his fist into the hunter’s temple, then held the unconscious man in front of him as a human shield. The other hunters had their guns raised, as if they were contemplating shooting through their comrade to get to Derek.

“Hold your fire,” came a lazy, sickening voice. Kate. Derek clenched his jaw at the voice that had haunted him for years. “Derek Hale, is that you? Wow, didn’t you grow up pretty?”

Derek growled, which only made Kate laugh.

“Calm down, kiddo. I just want to talk,” she said.

“Liar,” Derek said. “Why are you here?”

“Drop Martin and we can talk,” Kate said.

“Not happening.”

Kate let out a put upon sigh and raised he gun. A shot rang out and blood splattered across Derek’s face from the hunter’s head. Derek snarled, throwing aside his now useless human shield.

Derek had expected Kate to look the same, like evil would be frozen in time. But she’d aged like a normal human. There were laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, but that didn’t match the same, malicious eyes.

“Sweetie, it wasn’t smart of you to come all alone,” she said.

Derek said nothing, but glanced over her shoulder to where the two hunters were standing with Allison. She was on her knees, arms tied behind her. The hunter on her left was holding her up with a hand twisted in her hair. Derek’s heart dropped when he realized her legs were pushed far enough behind her that if the hunter were to let go of her hair, she’d fall with all her weight onto her belly.

Kate followed Derek’s gaze and sneered. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

“Aunt Kate,” Allison sobbed. The hunter to her right casually backhanded her, snapping her head to the side and making her spit out blood.

“You’re a disgrace to the Argent name,” Kate said sweetly. “And once we’ve finished this nasty business, with these dogs, we’ll take care of this one.” She nudged the toe of her boot against Allison’s swollen stomach, making her sob.

“She’s your niece,” Derek said.

Kate’s lip curled in disgust. “No family of mine would fuck a beast.”

“You raped one,” Derek said. The hunters in the circle shifted uncomfortably at that, but Kate just laughed. 

“That’s what you want to call it? Oh, honey.”

“Are you going to get to the point, or just keep listening to yourself talk?” Derek asked.

“We’re waiting for your alpha to show up,” Kate said. “No point in killing you until then.” Kate as idly caressing her gun and Derek just felt sick. He hadn’t thought this through at all. They’d come, just like Kate had wanted, and she still had Allison. He just prayed that Stiles and Lydia had them in their sights.

There was a rustling in the trees to the right, then two guns shots rang out, followed by a gurgling scream.

Kate smiled, swinging the gun to point at Allison’s stomach.

“Sounds like your cavalry is coming,” Kate said.

Moments later, a hunter came flying through the air, landing with a sickening crack in the clearing. Two seconds later, Chris Argent melted from the shadows, gun raised, followed by Isaac and a very pale Scott.

“God damn it, Scott,” Derek muttered. 

Scott, Isaac, and Chris froze at the sight of the gun trained on Allison’s belly. 

“No, please…”

“Good, we’ve all grasped the situation,” Kate said. “Looks like we’re just waiting on your alpha, if she’s not too cowardly to show.”

“Kate, what are you doing?” Chris asked, taking a slow step forward. “She’s your family. That baby is your family.”

“Nah ah ah,” Kate said. She pressed the gun harder against Allison’s stomach, making her cry out. Chris immediately stopped moving. “This thing isn’t my family. You stopped being family once you sided with these dogs and let your daughter be fucked like a bitch in heat.”

Derek hated her, he hated her so much that it felt like his very soul was burning up.

Derek jerked a little as more shots rang out in the trees around them, followed by guttural, wet screams. 

“Guns up, boys,” Kate said with a feral smile. “We’ve got a baby alpha coming our way.”

Derek half expected Laura to come flying from the trees, shifted and roaring, but she slinked out quietly from the trees, dark hair wild, eyes crimson, and arms absolutely soaked in blood, making it look like she was wearing red, dripping gloves.

“Our family had children, Kate,” Laura said, voice dangerous and low. “Our family had the humans you claim to protect.”

“They’re filth if they have anything to do with werewolves,” Kate said. She looked a little uncomfortable though, like she hadn’t expected Laura to be anything but a snarling, rabid beast. That was always her problem, Derek supposed. Even though all the evidence was right in front of her, she wasn’t able to see anything but monsters.

“God, you are so damaged,” Laura said, shaking her head. “I’d feel sorry for you if you didn’t like the way your daddy fucked you up.”

Kate snarled and whipped her arm around so the gun was trained on Laura instead of Allison.

“You don’t know anything,” Kate hissed. “I was raised to be strong, but my big brother apparently forgot what the means.”

“Kate, this isn’t how we do things,” Chris tried.

“Oh, but it is, Christopher.”

Derek nearly jumped at the new voice, then growled when the old man stepped into the clearing. He couldn’t smell or hear anything from the man; no scent, no heartbeat, nothing. But he still felt his chest tighten, ice freezing in his veins. Here was Gerard Argent, the Argent patriarch.

Gerard laughed, rusty and cruel, at the look of confusion on the werewolves’ faces.

“What, couldn’t tell I was there?” Gerard asked. He tapped a wooden medallion around his neck, circular with little runes carved into it. “Very rare and very expensive, but worth it.”

“Allison is your granddaughter!” Chris shouted. “You’re the one who has always said family is more important than anything else!”

“We seem to have a situation here, Hale,” Gerard said to Laura, completely disregarding Chris as if he weren’t even there. “The only reason your mangy mutts are still here is that you have something I need.”

“Let her go and we’ll talk,” Laura said.

“No. Consider Allison incentive for this conversation to go well,” Gerard said. 

“What do you want?” Laura asked.

“You’re going to give me the bite,” Gerard said.

Silence.

“I’m going to need you to run that by me again, with less old-man-crazy,” Laura said.

“The bite. You will give it to me,” Gerard said.

“Why the _hell_ do you want it? And what the fuck makes you think I would give it to you?” Laura asked. “Thirty seconds ago, your daughter was calling us dogs.”

Derek frowned, taking in the shallow circles under Gerard’s eyes, the sunken cheekbones and waxy skin.

“You’re sick,” Derek said. “You’re dying, aren’t you?”

“Karma,” Allison muttered, then hissed when Kate jabbed the gun against her belly.

“You hypocrite,” Chris said. “You’re the one that made Victoria kill herself when she was bitten and now you want it to save your own pathetic life?”

“Victoria was weak. She wouldn’t have been able to control herself as a werewolf,” Gerard said waving his hand dismissively. 

“I’m not biting you,” Laura said. “You’d kill my pack as soon as you got what you want. I’m not doing it.”

Gerard nodded to Kate, who took the safety off of her gun and pressed it back to Allison’s stomach.

“I’m not fucking around here!” Gerard yelled.

“Don’t,” Allison hissed, quiet enough that only the wolves would hear.

“I won’t,” Laura said. “I’m not doing it.”

“I’ll kill her,” Kate said. “Don’t test me on this, I will kill your precious Allison.”

Scott whimpered, twitching like he wanted to take a step forward but was stopped by Chris Argent’s hand on his arm.

“Listen to him, Scotty,” Kate taunted. “He knows I’ll do it.”

“Please,” Scott begged, dropping to his knees. “Please, take me instead. Please don’t, please…”

“That’s it, beg for me,” Kate purred.

“Kate,” Chris said.

“Clock is ticking, Laura,” Gerard said.

“Don’t,” Allison whispered.

The cacophony of voices was dizzying, surrounding Derek with whimpers and shouts and hissed words. Scott’s pleading, Chris’ heartbeat ratcheting out of control, the scent of panic and fear and hatred and – 

“Show them how serious we are, Kate,” Gerard said.

Derek’s heart stopped as Kate’s finger moved to the trigger and two shots rang out, one after the other. Blood exploded from Kate’s shoulder and she flew backwards a split second before her gun went off, striking Allison in the stomach. Allison screamed and slumped over, hands pressed to her bleeding abdomen.

Laura’s roar was deafening, drowning out Scott’s anguished cry. Everyone moved at once. Scott darted through everyone, ripping out the throat of the other hunter guarding Allison and sliding to his knees next to her, pressing his hands to her blood-slick stomach.

The rest of the pack flew into action, launching themselves at the hunters, tearing and clawing with abandon. A scream from Allison made Chris jerk just long enough to get a knife to the ribs. He yanked out the blade and slashed the hunter’s throat with it.

Stiles and Lydia burst from the trees, guns still in their hands. Stiles slammed his rifle into the face of a hunter coming at him, not even breaking his stride. He and Lydia rushed to Allison’s side, sliding to a stop right before Derek got there. Lydia leveled her gun at Kate, who’d been trying to scramble backwards, clutching at her bloody and torn shoulder. Lydia pressed the pointed heel of her shoe to Kate’s throat.

“I’ll kill you. Don’t test me on this, I will kill you,” Lydia hissed, throwing Kate’s earlier words back at her.

“There’s still a heartbeat, I don’t think the bullet hit the baby,” Derek said, resting his hand on Allison, helping Scott take her pain. “But she needs a hospital now.”

Stiles glanced around, taking in the fighting around them with a critical eye. 

“Go,” Stiles said, not looking away from the loud, messy fight. “We’ve got this.”

Scott didn’t hesitate, scooping Allison up in his arms and dashing off through the trees.

There were a few loud screams and squelching sounds before the last of the noise abruptly stopped, until the only hunters left were Kate, glaring hatefully up at Lydia, scent soured with pain, and Gerard twenty feet away, who was surrounded by the rest of the pack and had his gun pointed at Laura.

“It’s over,” Chris said. “You’re done.”

“No,” Gerard hissed. “We’ll kill your alpha.”

“I’ll kill Kate,” Stiles shot back.

“So kill her,” Gerard said. “I don’t care. Consider her reparation for your little fire.” Gerard’s words were flippant, but the hand holding his gun was violently shaking.

“What?” Kate hissed, gasping as Lydia pressed her heel down harder, drawing blood and cutting off Kate’s air. “Dad – you can’t – “

“You can’t believe this will work out for you,” Laura said. She was drenched in blood, like she crawled out of hell herself.

“I don’t care what you do to her!” Gerard shouted. “Bite me!”

Kate twisted, grabbing Lydia’s ankle and twist her foot away from her neck and rolling away. Lydia stumbled but leveled her gun at Kate’s head and didn’t even hesitate, squeezing the trigger twice in quick succession. From nearly point-blank range, Kate’s head all but _exploded_ , sending blood and brain matter over the floor. Gerard didn’t even blink.

Derek stared down at the mess of Kate, the monster who’d haunted him for years. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Stiles placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“You okay?” Stiles asked quietly. Derek nodded.

“Yeah,” Derek said, tearing his gaze from the body.

There was a shot and a growl and Derek looked over in time to see Gerard shoot Laura in the stomach. She staggered, but charged forward and was on him in seconds, snapping his neck. Gerard’s body hit the ground with a final thump.

“Why?” Isaac asked after a moment of silence. “This was a horrible plan. Why’d he come here?”

“He was desperate,” Laura said, voice pained. “Desperation makes people do stupid things.”

“I need to get ahold of Scott. I need to get to Allison,” Chris said.

“Go, we’ve got this,” Laura said. Chris nodded and took off, followed closely by Lydia.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s arm and hurried over to Laura, whipping out his emergency kit and quickly cleaning the gunshot wound in her stomach. Derek sighed, trying not to think of how close he’d come to losing his last family member.

“Where’s Erica?” Derek asked suddenly, stomach dropping. How had he missed that through the fight? Was she hurt? Oh god.

“I met her in the woods and sent her to the clinic to protect Boyd and Deaton, just in case,” Laura said. “Don’t worry, she’s fine.”

Derek nodded. The smell of death and blood was suffocating. The dead Argents were burned in his eyes and he couldn’t seem to stop looking at their bodies. He didn’t know why, but it was getting hard to breathe. This should be perfect, his demons were dead at his feet, so why did he feel like this, like he was crashing?

“Stiles, take Derek home,” Laura said abruptly. Derek’s gaze jerked from Kate’s body to Laura.

“I’m fine,” Derek said, though his voice sounded jagged to his own ears.

“I don’t want you near them,” Laura pleaded. “Isaac and I will clean this up.”

“We got this,” Isaac confirmed.

“Come on,” Stiles said, tugging at Derek’s arm.

“Okay,” Derek said and let himself be pulled by Stiles.

Derek only vaguely remembered the walk home. It was like highway hypnosis; he remembered that there was walking, and there were trees, but he didn’t actually remember the trip. He was just suddenly in Stiles and his bathroom.

“I’ve got you,” Stiles murmured as he slowly stripped Derek of his bloody clothes (and when did his shirt become saturated with blood?).

Stiles tossed Derek’s ruined clothes in the trash, followed closely by his jeans before deeming the boxer briefs salvageable. He turned the shower on and gently ushered Derek under the warm spray. Stiles slid in a few moments later after stripping down, his skin warm and comforting against Derek’s back.

“Lean your head back for me,” Stiles said quietly. 

Derek did, eyes dropping shut as Stiles slid long fingers into his hair, gently massaging shampoo into his scalp. Rinse, conditioner, rinse. Calloused fingers covered in soap ran over Derek’s face, softly scrubbing the drying blood from his skin. Stiles was murmuring praise and reassuring words and Derek would be annoyed at being treated with kid gloves but right then, it felt really good to just be taken care of.

Fifteen minutes later, Stiles was drying Derek off with one of the fluffiest, softest towels they owned, the ones Stiles had demanded they buy because they deserve the luxury. Derek’s mind was blissfully blank and quiet, until he remembered with a jolt.

“Allison,” he croaked. “We have to go to the hospital.”

“We will, once I’m sure you’re okay.”

“No, we need to go now,” Derek said as firmly as he could while being rubbed down with a fluffy, light blue towel.

“The doctors are doing what they can,” Stiles said. “There’s nothing we could do there but wait. I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of first, then we’ll go.”

“But – “

“You are important, too,” Stiles said firmly. “Get dressed. I’ll make some tea, and we’ll go, okay? But only if you’re mentally okay.”

“Okay,” Derek said, finally conceding that he wouldn’t win this argument.

Stiles headed downstairs to make tea and Derek pulled on his clothes slowly, trying to keep the calm feeling as long as he could. Once he was dressed in his softest red sweater and well-worn jeans, he wandered downstairs to find Stiles leaning against the counter with a thermos in his hands.

“Citron oolong,” Stiles said, holding it out. Derek’s favorite. “How are you feeling?”

Derek was about to say that he was fine, but stopped to truly take inventory of himself. He took a long drag of hot, strong tea, just the way he liked it, and catalogued his rapidly healing minor aches and pains, how his mind wasn’t as cloudy as before.

“Better,” Derek said. “I don’t think everything has sunk in yet, but I’m better than earlier. And I want to go to the hospital.”

Stiles regarded Derek thoughtfully for a long moment, then nodded.

“I trust you,” Stiles said. “I’m driving, though.”

-

Scott was sitting in the hospital waiting room, head in his hands, while Chris paced the small space, hand resting on his ribs where gauze was peeking out through the ripped fabric. Boyd, Erica, and Lydia were sitting in chairs next to Scott, all wearing solemn looks. Boyd looked a little worse for the wear, a side effect of being shot, but he was sitting up under his own power, Erica’s hand clutched in his.

Stiles pulled Scott in for a tight hug, letting Scott bury his face in his neck with a sob. Scott let out a violent shudder when Stiles gripped the back of his neck.

“She’s in surgery,” Chris said to their unasked question. “They think the bullet grazed the baby. They’re doing a C-section.”

“It’s a month and a half early,” Derek said. Chris just nodded and ran a hand over his face with a sigh. 

“I know,” Chris said. “But it’s the only option.”

Derek nodded numbly and collapsed into the chair next to Lydia. She immediately reached out and grasped Derek’s hand, squeezing hard enough that if he were human, he was sure his bones would have broken. He let her cling to him and squeezed her hand right back.

“Where’s Melissa? And Stiles’ dad?” Derek asked.

“She’s stuck in surgery,” Lydia said. “Some drunk driver caused a pileup. Stiles’ dad got dragged out for it.”

“Oh,” Derek said. 

It was a few hours until Laura and Isaac showed up, both looking like they’d hastily showered the dirt and blood off before coming. Laura immediately booted Derek out of his chair next to Lydia and scooped the other woman up into her arms, trading soft words.

“Mr. McCall?”

Scott leaped up at the sound of his name, staring at the doctor with wide eyes. Derek winced at the woman’s bloody scrubs. He’d seen enough blood that night to last a lifetime. 

“I’m Dr. Carson. Ms. Argent is going to be just fine,” she said. “It was touch and go there for a moment, but she pulled through.”

There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the waiting room. Boyd sagged into Erica. Stiles’ grip on Derek’s hand twitched and he buried his face in Derek’s neck briefly before turning to face the rest of the room. Scott and Chris looked at her with such naked joy that it almost hurt to watch.

“What about the baby?” Scott asked.

“She’s a bit underweight since she is a preemie, and she’ll have a scar on her arm from the bullet, but after a week or so, she should be okay to leave,” Dr. Carson said. She smiled tiredly. “Congratulations, Mr. McCall, you have a healthy little girl.”

“Can I see her?” he immediately asked, gripping Chris’ arm.

“They’re checking her over and monitoring her now,” Dr. Carson said. “Ms. Argent should be awake in the next few hours if you’d like to sit with her until the doctors are done with the baby.”

There was an awkward moment when both Chris and Scott stepped forward to follow the doctor, but Chris stepped back with a grimace, ceding to Scott, though it looked like it physically pained him to do so. Scott followed Dr. Carson, hastily waving over his shoulder as they left the waiting room.

-

The pack stayed camped out in the waiting room until Scott came out three hours later, looking exhausted but more relaxed.

“Allison’s awake. She says she feels okay. She’s in 709,” Scott added to Chris, who immediately turned on his heel and walked out.

“And the baby?” Laura asked.

Scott grinned.

“They let us see her,” he said and whipped out his phone, pulling up pictures.

The first was a very tired-looking Allison, staring down at the absolutely tiny baby in her arms, tears on her cheeks. Derek’s heart ached at how small she looked, how vulnerable, and how that light was almost snuffed out by her own family.

“She’s perfect,” Stiles cooed, clinging to Derek’s arm to peer at the screen. “I want one.”

“One step at a time, we’re not even married yet,” Derek said.

“I know, but look at the little fingers and, oh my god, the itty bitty toes!”

“Pull it together,” Lydia said, whacking him in the arm, but she was smiling.

“You’d better send us all those,” Erica threatened.

“I will,” Scott said. “Allison wanted me to say she loves you all and thanks for being here, now go home.”

-

Amanda “Mandy” Argent-McCall and Allison were both released from the hospital a week later. The entire pack plus parents had gathered at the Argent-McCall house to celebrate and give the gifts they’d bought for the rudely-interrupted baby shower.

Stiles was in a happy, bouncy mood (he’d had way too many of the mini cupcakes Lydia had brought), but Derek was content to stand a bit back from the crowd and just observe. Boyd stood with him for a while, watching as Stiles and an equally high-on-sugar Erica chased each other around the backyard, trying to bop the other with a balloon.

Eventually, they did tire themselves out and Stiles collapsed next to Derek, who was sitting on the couch holding a sleeping baby Mandy. He’d insisted once Allison gave a large yawn, and sent her off for a nap. He looked up when Stiles’ heartbeat ratcheted up. Stiles was staring at him with so much longing and affection that it staggered Derek.

“It looks good on you,” Stiles said and cleared his throat. “You with a baby. If I had ovaries, they’d explode.”

Derek chuckled, then quickly switched to cooing down at Mandy when the movement jostled her a bit. Derek held her to his chest, his big hand rubbing her back. Stiles made a choking noise and grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “So not fair.”

Derek let himself really think about it in a way that he rarely indulged in; imagining a little, dark-haired girl with Stiles’ big eyes, Stiles sleeping with a little baby curled on him, the sounds of shrieking laughter through the halls of their home.

“I want one, too,” Derek said.

Stiles turned to him, eyes bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I’d like a few years with you alone before we have kids, but if that’s something you want right now…”

“I don’t need a kid right now. Mandy is just giving me baby fever,” Stiles said. “I’m excited for our mating ceremony and our wedding and our honeymoon in the Maldives and spending as much time with you as I can. And when we’re ready, I’m excited to have amazing, perfect kids with you.”

Derek smiled.

“I love you.” He leaned over, placing a light kiss on Stiles’ lips. That was when Mandy decided to spit up all over his chest.

-

Stiles and Derek had given Lydia carte blanche power over their wedding as long as there were no pastels, there were deviled eggs, and it wasn’t anywhere that was far away enough that they had to fly. Lydia had huffed at that, but accepted.

The mating ceremony was a bit different. The wedding wasn’t until fall, but a few weeks after Kate and Gerard, Stiles came to Derek and said, “I’m ready, I want to be mated to you. If you’re ready, too.”

Derek had answered by yanking Stiles down into his lap, hungrily attacking his mouth. Erica and Boyd walked in a few minutes later while Derek was fucking Stiles over the back of the couch. Boyd had dragged a protesting Erica upstairs, flipping them off for having sex in the living room.

The next weekend had the pack plus Lydia (who had yet to decide on joining) gathered in the backyard of the Hale house, sun shining down on an unseasonably warm March day. Stiles and Derek were both shirtless, nipples pebbled and hard from the cold. Held in Derek’s hand was a bowl of dark paint. The ceremony wasn’t necessary to cement the mating bond, all that was required were the mating bite and intent, but the Hales had always clung to the old fashioned traditions in this area. And Derek wanted to honor that.

The yard was silent apart from the rustling of leaves and chirping birds of the preserve. There were no words for this, and the pack was there to bear witness, not speak.

Derek stepped closer to Stiles and dipped his fingers into the bowl, covering them in paint. He searched Stiles’ face, waiting for the nod of permission, then reached out, drawing his fingers over Stiles’ skin. Stiles shivered under his touch, smelling faintly like arousal, but he didn’t move. Derek traced fingers over Stiles’ chest, swirling around a nipple (which earned him a glare) then pulled back to admire his work. Over Stiles’ chest, starting right over his heart, was a black triskelion.

Stiles took the bowl and copied Derek, who shivered at the drag of Stiles’ fingertips. Stiles seemed to be taking as long as possible in payback for Derek teasing his nipple, which made Derek grit his teeth, but he stayed still. Finally, Stiles pulled away after painting a triquetra over Derek’s heart.

When Derek had asked why that symbol, Stiles had explained that it had been his mom’s favorite because of her Celtic roots and had used the threefold meaning kind of like Derek had; father, mother, son, and love, honor, protect. Stiles had told Derek that he would love, honor, and protect him until their dying days.

Symbols painted, Derek met Stiles’ eyes and took his wrist, bringing it to his mouth. It was like the rest of the pack melted away. All he could focus on was Stiles. The uptick of his heartbeat, the slightly salty taste of his skin, the way his pupils were dilated made Derek’s fangs drop and his eyes flash. He bit.

Stiles cried out when Derek’s teeth broke the skin, but he didn’t pull away. Derek focused on all the love he had for Stiles, how much he wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and shoved it through the bond, feeling it flare a little brighter. He lapped at Stiles’ wrist, the coppery tang coating his tongue as he licked the shallow wound clean.

Stiles took a shaky breath and grabbed Derek’s wrist, bringing it to his mouth. He kissed Derek’s wrist and mouthed a voiceless ‘I love you’ against the skin. It took Stiles a lot more effort to break the skin with his bite, but when he did, Derek felt like he was hit by a freight train.

It was like being surrounded by Stiles, consumed by him. Derek vaguely thought that wow, his parents really hadn’t explained how deep the mate bond went, but then his attention when yanked back when Stiles (his mate!) kissed him hungrily, devouring Derek.

The pack muttered their congratulations, some complaining about how they reeked of hormones, but Derek ignored them all, focusing on the beautiful man in his arms.

“It’ll stay, right?” Stiles asked, his voice breathy. “Your bite will scar like mine will, right?”

“Yes,” Derek promised. “Everyone will know I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” Stiles said, then his face turned mischievous. “How about we go inside and you fuck me until I forget my name?”

Derek’s heart stuttered, then Stiles was off, running into the house like hell was on his heels. Everything in Derek was screaming to fuck and claim and mate, but he held himself back for as long as he could, wanting to enjoy the chase, then ran after Stiles, finally catching up to him in the doorway to their room.

Stiles shrieked in glee as Derek tackled him onto the bed. Derek twisted them around so Stiles was under him, pinned like he loved. The line of his cock was hard against Derek’s hip, making his groan.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed. “Come on, Derek, fuck me, need you.”

“Have to open you up, baby, gotta get you ready to take my knot,” Derek said, making Stiles whine.

Derek stripped them quickly, needing Stiles’ naked skin against his.

“Need you,” Stiles said, running hands up Derek’s naked torso. “Can’t wait for you to fill me up, make me yours.”

“So beautiful,” Derek said, sliding his hand between Derek’s legs. “So perfect, I – “ Derek cut himself off, finding the hard base of a plug in Stiles’ ass.

“Wanted to be ready for you,” Stiles said.

“Fuck,” Derek cursed. He probed around the base, feeling where Stiles’ rim was stretched taut around the base of the plug. “So lucky to have you.”

Stile whined as Derek eased the plug out of his ass, followed by a trickle of lube. Derek immediately pushed three fingers into Stiles’ hole.

“Hate being empty, don’t you?” Derek purred in Stiles’ ear. He spread his fingers, grazing Stiles’ prostate. Stile keened, gripping at Derek’s shoulders. Derek’s cock was so, so hard, but he _needed_ to prep Stiles. He would never hurt his mate. He slips his pinky finger in with his others, stretching the abused hole.

“Derek!” Stiles gasped.

“Look at you,” Derek said. Stiles’ hole clung to his fingers, red and puffy. “So perfect. Sweet little hole never wants to be empty. “

“I’m ready. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Stiles said. “Want your knot.”

Derek growled and pulled his fingers free. Before Stiles could complain about the loss, Derek thrust in, sliding in easily. Stiles’ high-pitched keening morphed into gasps and grunts of pleasure as Derek fucked into him.

This was beautiful and perfect. The mate bond pulsed between them, making it hard for Derek to feel where he ended and Stiles began. All he knew was it felt like what Erica had said; they fit, and it was like he’d waited his whole life for them to finally come together.

“I’m close,” Stiles gasped. “I’m sorry, I can’t hold off, so good, I can’t – “

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Derek said, nuzzling at Stiles’ temple. “I want you to come for me.”

“Not yet,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. “Want to come on your knot.”

Derek almost lost it, thrusts juddering for a second before he pounded into Stiles, desperate to make the man under him fall apart, to come with Derek’s name on his lips and his bite on his wrist.

“Oh _god_!” Stiles yelled. “That’s, fuck, that’s your knot…”

Derek nudged the swelling base of his cock against Stiles’ hole, pushing slowly until Stiles was begging him, desperately pleading. Finally, his knot popped in, making Stiles writhe and scream.

“God, Stiles, look at you,” Derek said. He couldn’t pull out enough to thrust, so he ground his cock into Stiles, making sure his knot kept steady pressure on Stiles’ prostate.

“Der,” Stiles whimpered. He rolled his hips up to meet Derek’s, his breath coming harsher every second.

“You were made for this,” Derek said. “Made for me, to be filled. Gonna keep you full, fill you with my come ‘til you’re round and plug you up, never let you be empty again.”

“Touch me, please, so close, I need you to touch me,” Stiles begged.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Derek murmured. He slid a hand between their bodies and took Stiles’ cock in his hand.

“Yes,” Stiles hissed. It only took a few strokes before Stiles was coming, shouting Derek’s name.

Stiles’ sweet hole clenched around Derek’s knot, pulling Derek closer to the edge, clouding his mind with pleasure while he whispered encouraging praise into Stiles’ ear, telling him how beautiful he was, how loved, how he felt so perfect around his cock.

“Come on,” Stiles said. “Come in me, Derek. Love you so much, fill me up, love you.”

Derek roared as he came, biting at Stiles’ neck while Stiles clung to him, whispering, “I love you,” over and over.

Derek felt hazy with pleasure and joy at having his mate, but he was still able to maneuver them onto their sides, making Stiles whimper lightly when the knot tugged at his hole. Derek soothed him, running his hand up Stiles’ back and pulling him into his chest. Stiles rested his cheek on Derek’s shoulder and let out a content sigh.

“This probably would have been easier on all fours,” Stiles said, burrowing as far into Derek’s chest as he could without the knot pulling painfully.

“Probably,” Derek agreed. “But I wanted to be able to see you, and kiss you.”

“Sappy,” Stiles said, but he was grinning. 

They lay in silence, holding each other as the excitement and adrenaline faded to contentment. Stiles was toying with Derek’s fingers where they were resting on his hip when Derek remembered something.

“I can’t believe you wore an anal plug during our whole mating ceremony!”

Stiles threw his head back and laughed delightedly. 

“And to think, you’ve got me for the rest of your life,” he said.

And really, all that did was make Derek smile.

-

Stiles and Derek left early the next morning, taking the jeep a few hours south to a little beach town where they’d rented a cottage on the water for a few days. It wasn’t a honeymoon, that they’d do after the actual wedding, but they’d wanted a little time alone after the mating ceremony. And Stiles really wanted to swim.

Their cottage was right on the beach, only a few feet of grass separating them from sand. Stiles had wanted to run out into the water as soon as they’d arrived, but Derek had made him wait and put on sunscreen (“I’m an adult, Derek!” “Adults still get sunburns.”).

From where Derek sat on the back porch, shaded from the sun by a wooden awning, he had a direct line of sight to where Stiles was splashing in the shallow waves. Derek smirked as Stiles shrieked at a piece of seaweed wrapping around his ankle. 

“Derek!” Stiles called. “Stop being such an old man and come swim with me!”

“Let me finish this and I’ll be there,” Derek called back.

His laptop was perched on his lap, his half-finished reply to his old therapist, Dr. Cane’s email staring back at him. He hadn’t seen her since they’d left New York over a year before, but he still checked in occasionally. She liked to hear how he was doing and was always happy to give advice, even if he were no longer her patient. 

Derek had already given her a rundown of what happened since they’d last spoken, about how he thought Lydia might want to officially join the pack soon, how he and Stiles were stumbling through wedding planning, and about how Stiles had cried when Allison and Scott had asked him to be Mandy’s godfather.

It was her last question that made Derek pause.

_You have your pack, a family, and your mate. Is it safe to say that you’re not only happy and content, but excited about life?_

And that was…huh.

When she’d asked him that when he’d first started therapy with her, he’d just glared. Two and a half years ago, before he’d met Stiles, he’d shrugged. Last year, she asked during his last session before they left New York. He’d uncomfortably said, “Yeah? I mean, I’m happy.” And he had been, but ‘excited about life’? Is that even a thing outside of Chicken Soup for the Soul? She’d just looked at him for a bit longer than normal, before nodding and writing something in her notes.

That was before, though. Before mating, and Erica, the pack, their home…Before Mandy sleeping with her face tucked into Derek’s throat, Boyd calling for pack ice skating nights, and the wedding he and Stiles were going to have in the fall. And the kids they’d have eventually. And the life they’d build with each other.

 _Yes,_ he typed out. _I am very excited._

He hit send and closed the laptop, setting it on the table. Stiles whooped.

“Swim with me!” 

Derek sprinted through the sand, leaping into the water next to Stiles with a huge splash. Stiles sputtered, coughing seawater and slapped at Derek’s arm.

“Asshole!” he said.

“Oh?” Derek said, cocking a brow.

“What?” Stiles said warily. “I don’t like that face, it looks maniacal, I – OH MY GOD, PUT ME DOWN!”

Derek picked up Stiles by the waist, hoisting him into the air.

“Derek Hale, I swear to god – AH!”

Derek threw Stiles up and into the water, the smaller man shrieking the whole time. Stiles had popped up ten feet away, face scandalized.

“Oh, it is _so_ on,” Stiles hissed.

And yeah, Derek was excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr on my [Teen Wolf Blog](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my main blog.

**Author's Note:**

> Seizure information is from a friend with epilepsy, and Native information comes from a friend from the Tsimshian tribe. I've never written some thing this long, so leaving a comment with your thoughts would be lovely!  
>  
> 
> As always, come talk to me on tumblr on my [ Teen Wolf blog](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my [main blog!](http://www.femmmefatalist.tumblr.com)


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